XTRA: Resolve
by PrognisAldiev
Summary: What will eventually amass to be a collection of side-stories, bonus information, and content not seen in the story chapters of RWBY: Resolve. Really just to tide us over until the next volume of RWBY lets the main story move on, but interesting tidbits of information regarding the story can be seen in these chapters. Just a heads up -there is no team named XTRA.
1. Spar 1 (Ch 10-B)

**Combat Class Sparring, Pt. 1**

Obaz was frowning, but for once it seemed to be for a reason. He looked to the rest of his team; "On the subject of names..."

Regis jumped on that before any of them could blink; "Yes, Obaz, your name is hilarious and weird. No need for a reminder."

"No, names of weapons. Ruby Rose spoke to me before about weapons being named rather specifically; she has Crescent Rose, for example, and Sophia has Matenlock. Do your weapons have names?"

Regis and Laera both nodded, Regis choosing to continue on with seriousness. "My greaves here are called Sable Regalia. Laera's oversized falchion-looking thing is called Precious Surge."

Laera huffed at Regis' impressive summary. "Precious Surge is dust-conducting basilard, made in a line of glyph-based technology close to Weiss' Myrtenaster."

Obaz nodded. "I see. If such titles are common among Hunters, I suppose she _would_ be rather underwhelmed by Mk. III, or Mk. IV for that matter..."

Glynda's voice halted basic exercises and announced the first pairing for spars; "Ruby Rose... and Laera Daylight." Regis patted Laera's shoulder, telling her it was a good day to get owned. She smacked his hand away and climbed the steps onto the stage, face to face with the smaller, cheery girl. She couldn't be as tough as the rumors had her believe... could she?

She drew her own blade, extending it to full length and setting the slide on the back to latch on the white dust cartridge. Ruby whipped out a scythe bigger than she was, twirled it around like it was nothing and cocked the mechanism for firing high-velocity bullets.

Ms. Goodwitch motioned for the match to commence, and Ruby was on her in a second. The younger girl was already inches from her with Crescent Rose raised, coming down for a vertical slash that Laera dodged just barely. Skipping forward and carrying the swing around her back to a good side swipe, the upper edge of the curve skinned Laera's blade once she held it up to defend herself. At the back end of that swing she fired, propelling herself after her opponent still retreating to come at her on an upward angle; Laera formed a glyph under her when she made this move that amplified her launch force and made her jump much higher than she had intended to with the slash.

Laera started an offense as Ruby righted herself, coming down with another swipe of Crescent Rose. Slipping to the left of the attack, Laera snapped a foot over toward Ruby's head that she ducked, but brought the leg back to stand on the shaft of Crescent Rose and pin it to the ground under her weight. Ruby was forced to let go of her weapon in order to dodge a sword coming for her abdomen, backing off until Laera gave chase, stepping between her and the scythe. Ruby used her semblance to get around Laera quicker than she could react; taking back Crescent Rose first, she carried the enhanced speed into a powerful drop kick sending Laera end-over-end across the stage.

Laera formed a glyph that she struck not so elegantly, having used it to keep her in the arena boundaries and from losing from a ring out. She clambered to her feet and deflected two swings of Ruby's scythe, taking a slash of her own at Ruby's legs which she hopped over easily, and they both took measured steps from one another once they broke away.

Unlike Weiss, who could maintain a number of Glyphs at once or within a short time span of one another, Laera was limited. Her glyphs were large and usually had a solid power behind them, but couldn't be used the way Weiss used hers; Laera accelerated herself with the use of her glyphs now, but had them appear at exact points where she would need a boost or need to make a sharp turn; easier to track, but harder to catch. Ruby began using her semblance again, and the two were clashing all over the stage before Laera finally gave up on out-manoeuvring the little scarlet speed demon.

Laera bunkered down and waited for Ruby to come to her, thinking she was getting nowhere with going after her. Ruby continued using her semblance, feinting a shot from the right to hit her from directly in front when she went to block the attack, jabbing Laera in the stomach with the pointed end of Crescent Rose's shaft and quickly using the blunt back of the scythe to bat her into the air. Ruby led the upswing into placement against the ground, firing while jumping at the same time to close in on Laera mid-air and give her a vertical whirling slash that sent her into the ground. Laera got up, having blocked it, but shakily as the force she was struck with and impact to the ground had both been hard.

"Winner: Ruby Rose." Glynda caught them both before they lunged again, Laera sighing and sheathing Precious Surge. After some words of encouragement and things to improve on from the teacher, she and Ruby stepped down from the same stairs, chatting with smiles like they weren't just hitting each other.

Regis leaned Laera's way as they both came back, the rest of RWBY now present having assumed Ruby would stay and chat with either Laera or Obaz. "How's that whiplash, Laera? Pretty big wreck you were in."

"Do you _ever_ speak outside of jokes and flirting?" Weiss interjected on her approach. He continued to harry Laera a little but kept the volume down, his eyes drawn more to Obaz and Yang standing side-by-side.

Obaz was still sore about the proclamation of a date she made some few days ago, and in spite of her best attempts at hinting she was sorry, he could either hold a grudge well or wouldn't acknowledge such subtle attempts. Regis wasn't entirely sure why she even wanted to be on good terms with the guy, but he could guess; most likely would be Obaz growing closer with her sister. Ruby probably had nothing but good things to say about him, and with the guy on Yang-specific lockdown she couldn't get him to say for what reasons he met with her younger sister. Obaz mostly studied and trained in his free time, but more than once Regis had seen him and Ruby simply talking.

Right now, Yang was standing next to him but couldn't find the words it so seemed. She struck up a bit of smalltalk, wherein she got his attention, and in seconds he was just walking away and she looked ready to crush his head. Regis stifled a laugh, hearing Glynda start picking and choosing again;

"Russell Thrush, and Lie Ren." That wasn't even worth watching. It would be a surprise if the match lasted any more than a minute. Even so, the little escapade after his loss where Cardin and the gang tried to cheer up and insult the guy simultaneously would be worth witnessing, so he chose to visit Cardin for a spell. Sophia watched him turn to the dark side with an irritable expression.

"I just don't get it. I don't. It's like being friends with a rock that everyone stubs their toe on aside from you." Obaz stood unmoving, listening to the analogy Sophia made with little else to give his attention to. His gaze flickered to Blake at intervals; Ruby had let slip a day ago that her black-haired team member had a tendency to process her for information each time she met with him. According to RWBY's leader, Blake was always the first to attentively listen when Ruby brought him up, and often kept her going on the subject. It seemed like she was still convinced they were acquainted from somewhere beforehand, and it was gnawing at the back of her mind. While his ears were trained on Sophia's grumblings and the fight on stage, his eyes were being drawn to that as well as Blake and Ruby, thinking about where they might have met given she really did recognize him. It was unlikely he had helped her with car troubles.

It was a shame that not one member of team STNH had this class with them. The twins had transferred in and out, but much like RSOL they were pieces that the teachers found hard to fit into the puzzle of Beacon scheduling. Of course they had combat class, just not the same one they did. Jaune probably wished they were here more than Obaz did simply so Steven could populate a class he were in with Cardin; Steven heard about the instances where Jaune was victimized by the villain but was never there when such things actually happened. Apparently, Steven was the type of guy who only needed a direct excuse to start either intervening peacefully or throwing punches.

Ren descended the steps, dusting off his sleeves and sharing a word with Nora. Nora shared at least fifty with him, mostly congratulations and compliments but when she said she would do just as well against any opponent she got, Glynda noted this.

"Alright then, Nora Valkyrie. Let's see... ah, Sophia Towers." The girls stepped up to the arena, Nora ready to crash down and Sophia prepared to break through. All eyes were glued to the stage as Glynda gave the go-ahead, Sophia springing her shield and Nora charging toward her.

The quarter-circle plate jumped in to defend against the battering force of Nora's repeated hammer strokes at Sophia's beckoning, and she was using the mechanism that set down and unleashed the shield to meet with a strong force of her own. Nora leaned back to evade a hard swing of Sophia's lance, but stumbled back when struck by the bottom of the gun barrel that Sophia rammed forward with. Sophia stepped out of the way of a kick, and nearly got demolished by an explosion-propelled attack as her opponent recovered.

She hadn't expected something like a war hammer to be swung by this hyperactive redhead at such speeds; watching Sophia successfully shield the bold weight of Nora's assault was like watching a battering ram bash into the gates of a fort but at a rate of twice per second. Even worse, she showed no signs of stopping anytime soon, and when she came in with an underhand stroke it took Sophia off her feet it landed her on her back. Thinking fast, she dodged the next meteoric hammer swing by drawing back Matenlock's lance and extending it against the floor, much like the spring mechanism of the shield the lance slid her across the arena floor and out of the impact crater that formed right behind her.

Now that there was some distance and Sophia had a handle on Nora's speed, she held her back with some thrusts of her lance that made Nora pick her ways to strike more carefully. This didn't last, much to Sophia's dismay, as Nora lost patience and hit the ground so hard the tremor made Sophia falter in her steps and let Nora start trying to shatter her defense again. Sophia made her own daring move once Nora came in for a horizontal stroke, stabbing the Matenlock into the floor and bringing up both hands for an axe-handle that knocked the hammer off course, over her head. She brought her clawed hand in for a backhand, punch to the jaw, and got one last kick to Nora's stomach before Nora jolted forward and not only slammed the top of her head into Sophia's nose, but kicked Matenlock out of its place in the ground, away from them both.

Nora got into a frenzy of hammer swings, and though Sophia manoeuvred around a good five of them the sixth caught her without a weapon. She blocked with her arms, but was sent careening over the side of the arena. "Winner: Nora Valkyrie." They had both been in the yellow area of their auras, neither of them had taken a great deal of damage, but the distance one was sent by Nora's attacks was simply too much.

Nora smiled a dazzling and bright grin, asking Ren half a dozen times if he saw as well as telling Sophia she did well. Ms. Goodwitch advised Sophia not to take gambles, and they briefly discussed Obaz' abandonment of the Mk. III being a mistake when he first fought against Yang Xiao Long before she was let go.

"That will be the last spar of the day. Class dismissed."


	2. The Darkmire, Part 0

**RWBY / RSOL**

**The Darkmire, Pt. 0**

"Sean Roberts. How is the vacation going?" The swamp around them had been dead silent until Sean's phone had vibrated in his pocket, and he answered it. He and a dozen others were navigating the Darkmire on three rafts, each carrying five or so cages. Eight Griefweavers with their own cages, and seven containers with five to seven Basili each; the largest volume he had assisted yet in their pilgrimage. Sean responded with a contented voice;

"Coming along well, my friend. The kids are all strapped in; we're making good time." Of course, they both knew they weren't talking about a vacation. Until he reached the halfway house, they would speak over personal devices, and make sure they coded terms so nothing incriminating would be found in the event of an investigation.

He heard a grunt of approval on the other line. "Your window to get there is only a few minutes. Keep up the pace, Roberts." And just like that, the checkup was over with. The man wasn't much of a conversationalist.

Right now, exalted members of their faith had bought them the opportunity to move such a vast amount of Grimm, using a number of connections to cast a veil of surveillance tampering over the given area of the Mire they were passing through. They were literally carrying a black zone on the map with them until they reached the pit stop of sorts in this area, and from there would finish leaving the thick and grungy swamp to trek into Talek pass. A crevasse widened by yet more Idavollens would be taken from there, leading into the re-fit refinery that once processed dust mined out from beneath Osem peak. They still had a long road ahead of them, but it was well worth it; the facility made from the Osem refinery was the best they had made yet, containing Alpha Beowolves, Ursa, Nevermores, Loa, and rumor had it one of the inner rings had acquired a Barong. Soon, Griefweavers and Basila would join their ranks, and from there could be shipped through extended tunnels from the old mine. Much safer, yet to be even considered by law enforcement or those blasted Hunters.

Sean, of course, was simply the manager in this movement, keeping their time and work in line. Responsibilities lie with him, and he would make sure this went off without a hitch, though he was so far content with the professionalism his fellows had shown. It was Sean's sense of self-control that got him positions like these, a deskjob among cultists, of that he was certain; it was the only trait that made him stand out among his peers here in Idavollr. They were all dressed in black with white accents like he was, with their hoods up just in case. Just one of them was an exception.

Brother Zalarex, as they called him, was nearly seven feet tall. He had similar clothes to theirs, but a mantle and waistcloth of white with symbolism woven in showed he was higher in the caste. His hood was down, and his jaw was as square as a cinderblock while his eyes were just a tiny bit too close together. His hair was shaved at the sides, left an inch or so at the top and back of a light brownish-teal color, like the froth on a sandy beach. His muscles bulged like he was perpetually flexing, his shoulders were wide and powerful, and he stood near the middle of the raft next to the cages full of Grimm. They had snarled at him until he chose to make eye contact, and they quieted down soon after. Sean could swear that the raft was an extra few inches, maybe even a foot deeper submerged than the other floating devices because Zalarex was on it.

Right now it was a hassle to propel their transports, using oars and sticks to push against the water and mud but they had better means to leave the halfway house once they were loaded up there. One of the men took buckets of fresh meat from the cooler and started routinely feeding the Grimm in their cages, the Griefweavers always wary of the meal for the first few seconds but the Basila eagerly tearing it apart amongst one another.

Minutes passed, and they saw the first body of solid ground in hours. They beached the square transports, stretched out their kinks, and got to work; using a car jack, six of them lifted one side of the rafts to pop out small wheels that were spiked like cleats, followed by lifting and popping the other side of each. The other six had cleared away the camouflage and debris covering the massive sliding doors covering the freight elevator. It would only be taking them about two stories down.

The pit stop they had in the Darkmire was a stroke of luck much like the refinery; a pharmaceutical company had dug up this land and begun building a safehouse for the less permissible side of their trade, and had gotten a foundation as well as ample space constructed. Their business went under scrutiny around the time they had hoped to move the suspicious product, however, and were forced to abandon the site. One of the workers they had hired to use the power equipment remembered the space once joining Idavollr, and it took no time to make use of it.

Sean had climbed into the service hatch ahead of the rest of the crew, as a report was expected of him soon, so he made a B-line to the technical room. Zalarex moved the second raft in to position to get on the elevator by himself while others were taking the first down. The man was an unimaginable brute.

Setting down his knapsack once at the bottom of the stairs, the technical room welcomed him with dozens of fans trying to keep the damp air from settling and the hum of computer systems. Sean sat down, taking a quick and much-needed drink from a water bottle now lukewarm, and got to typing. He kept a window open showing their own surveillance records, unimpeded by the tampering taking place to keep them hidden, though he could only see the outer perimeter of the place; having hardware like cameras running constantly inside the compound would reveal every detail of their work and likely their plans from there, given anyone got their hands on it, so the walls and corners around them were bare.

Twenty minutes passed. He wasn't quite done with his report, but stopped punching the keys when he heard something echo down the stairs. Metal clattering, voices, growling and soon louder voices. Sean was well aware that everything had just gone right to hell before he could blink twice.

He took a handgun loaded with tranquilizers from his pack, as it was the only weapon their group was permitted, and ascended the stairs to assess the situation. By the time he got upstairs the shutter gates were closed, there were signs of damage to the elevator shaft but nothing major, some dribbles of blood. There was a shredded Idavollr uniform on top of the raft currently on the elevator platform; one of the wheels had snapped off and the resulting tilt made the weight of the cages slide and fall over. Four cages were open and torn, all of which were Griefweaver containers.

The second and first rafts were in better shape, but the closest of the two had been damaged slightly and two of the Griefweaver cages there were open. He arrived just fast enough to witness one of the remaining two Griefweavers attempt to leave through the damaged door on its cage, Zalarex walking up to slam both his fists and forearms into the beast's chest to shove it back inside. He grasped the injured bars near the broken lock, twisting them into a knot to seal it shut. No one asked him any questions.

"Enryu be merciful, what have you all done? Tell me we still have a male and female Weaver." Sean sounded surprisingly calm. Nine of the original twelve workers were at hand, the other three presumably dead. The inner circles would have his ass for this, even though it wasn't his fault. He thought better of it and began formulating something to make of the situation.

The workers under his watch were bickering and making up excuses, but Sean silenced them and set them back to work with the remaining two rafts, though one did at least confirm that the remaining two Griefweavers were opposite genders. He then approached Zalarex. "Brother, I would like to make the most of this blunder. Would you heed my requests?" Polite as he could be, he hoped the man wouldn't squeeze him to death on the spot. Instead, he got approval.

"What do you wish of me, Brother Sean?" He sounded almost gentle.

"I would have you first release three cages of Basila aboveground, where the Griefweavers have escaped to. It pains me to do so, but they will assist as prey for the Griefweavers to survive the shock of environmental change. Second, disposal of the third raft. We can no longer use it, and I would like that piece of evidence removed. It could be traced back to a manufacturer."

Zalarex nodded grimly. "Good thinking. It shall be done." The man clasped his hands and bowed in a way Sean didn't recognize, and went to follow his orders. If Sean could improvise and make the escape an observation of Grimm in slightly varying habitat differences, the data could be of use to Idavollr.

He cleaned up the fallen cooler with feed for the Grimm from the third raft and set it on the second, and also assisted in shifting the broken cages aside for traffic to come and go down the wide hallway. There was roughly a half an hour left to prepare and depart, and he needed to finish his report now filled with disaster. When he touched up and submitted the file, he went back up to help the final preparations.

Zalarex had dragged the third raft out alone, destroyed the floatation on the bottom, and tied a few of the gaping and useless cages to it to weigh it down. From there he had searched out the deepest nearby pool and pushed it in with a grunt, soaking himself up to the chest in making sure the dead equipment would not rise to gain anyone's attention.

Two of the crewmen had taken three of the Basili cages as asked and set them on the elevator, sending it up for Zalarex to release the creatures. He snapped the lock on each cage, shaking the contents until they were all out, and hurled the cages into other varying pools to the east of there. The little Grimm would have ganged up in confidence on Zalarex given they were part of the same litter, but felt competitive with one another and soon all went their separate ways. Even if they had been feeling up to taking the man on, he likely could have intimidated them into thinking otherwise.

His return to the facility revealed that the nine remaining crewmembers were prepared to leave, and more than willing. Zalarex dried himself off, changed, and went to find Sean. The man was cool as ice about the development, and he had to respect that kind of self-control.

"We may leave at anytime."

"Father Sethiker has replied to my report." Zalarex' eyes narrowed. That was about as tight as the circles got; some said the Father was the founder of Idavollr himself. Sean continued;

"He wishes that I remain here for the next two days and observe the experiment I've devised from the mistake. You are to overtake leadership of the expedition, and I will follow afterward." Not all too pleased with the change of plans, Sean slumped a bit. Zalarex put a hand on his shoulder, which came as a surprise that it didn't dislocate the body part.

"You did well to isolate the scenario. Enryu looks upon you with pride, I am sure. We can leave one or two of the crewmen here, if you would like more hands." Sean shook his head no.

"They would only get in the way. All I need to do is watch and learn from these great creatures; nothing difficult. Be on your way, Brother, and luck be with you." That hand-clasping bow again, and Zalarex was gone. Sean listened as the hovercraft their cargo had been transferred to roared to life, and the sound of the vehicle soon faded away without him.

/

Over the next day and a half, Sean had kept himself up with instant coffee that he had in his pack, eaten a few protein bars, and sat at a computer doing basically nothing. It was interesting to watch the Basila populace explode like it had, forming a den overnight and breeding like rabbits to overcome their minor differences while the Griefweavers all lost color specifically to the humps on their backs; their blowhole of sorts had faded solely to match the gritty, silt-colored beaches around the Darkmire. The developments had been sent to his superior that had originally been checking up on him; he was no longer Sethiker's problem.

He had developed some light stubble, where normally he would have shaved as soon as he felt scratchy. It drove him mad that he hadn't the means to do so, but had no trouble keeping himself from dozing off at least. It had appeared that things would go over smoothly and he could leave this place behind the next morning. His monitors had laughed at him with proximity alerts for being optimistic, and within a few minutes Sean had windows up showing a vessel land on the borderline between a meadow-like area west of the Mire.

Eight... no, nine people vacated the transport to press into the territory where his observations were happening. Minutes later, they were spreading out and attracting the Basila... to kill them on the spot. Goddamned Hunters were what they were. He thought he recognized the one; wasn't that the playboy from the Agemont family? Most definitely it was. He wanted a word with that one, and Regis as his name really was gave him that chance later.

Sean sighed dejectedly, sending the last of his data as well as the images of the hunters responsible for his derailing plans to his superior, breaking all ties once complete. He traced back and deleted, deleted, deleted everything the systems were connected to, and then deleted the memory of having deleted things. There were a few files left over that weren't quite a risk yet, and some that were hard to get rid of, and he prepared the dreaded 13th Allegory string for those. After that, knowing there was no way he could get out undetected, he waited.

Sean idly played with his false tooth, drinking from a canteen of lukewarm lighter fluid instead of lukewarm water. Sean had a great deal of self-control.


	3. Streetlight (Valentine's gift)

**Streetlight**

|**This is a what-if scenario that was requested of me on Valentine's Day; essentially, it's a one-shot fluff chapter between Yang and Obaz. When I get such a request **_**on Valentine's Day specifically,**_** it's hard to turn down. So here we are... **

**You know you've got an avid fan when they make their own shipping term for your character and another; **_**Streetlight**_** is the gray-yellow equivalent of the popular **_**White Rose **_**term for white-red Weiss X Ruby, for example**_**.**_** I was flattered into writing this thing out... Enough rambling; you can read on now if romance is what you're looking for. Happy Valentine's Day, however late.|**

Yang lay above of her covers in the top bunk, restless. She wished someone were there to talk to, but the three of her teammates had business promising not to unhand them for the rest of the night. Having browsed both her scroll and her schnellphone for someone to call and hang out with, not one person she felt like spending her time with answered those calls; now she was just staring at the ceiling, thinking maybe she should skim through one of Blake's books even if it would cost her later. Blake didn't like it when those were touched, and she could always tell when they had been, somehow.

She had changed into her shorts and tank top once giving up on the idea of going out, and her languor would have led into a nap for lack of a better option had the door not opened, breathing life into her attention and having her rise up to greet whichever girl had returned early. Her uplifted hand waved to not a girl, but Obaz, and he was squinting at her. Just holding him in her gaze made her groan and lie back down.

"... You know why I am here."

"Go away." A fun Obaz sounded synonymous to friendly Cardin or talented Jaune. She wasn't interested.

"This conversation sounds familiar, does it not?" He was hinting that the outcome would be the same as the first time; he would either wrap up her hands again or they would beat the crap out of one another behind the firing range. Yang felt both were too far away from her bed.

She rolled over in her spot, flipping her pillow so the cool side was up. "I'm fine. It's all healing over well..." She heard his hand placed on the side of her bunk, and she felt the urge to roll back over and punch him in the eye –but that would definitely make her feel active, and she still wasn't supposed to do any of the good training. She shifted to face him, propping her head in one hand while the other tapped across the mattress. She gave him a most displeased look; sadly it didn't crack that impenetrable poker face of his.

"You're gonna climb into bed with me, huh?" The discussion was still being repeated, but her tone was much more daring than last. 'Just try it', she said.

"Yes. If you do not move from there." He held up three fingers from the hand clutching her bedside. The ring finger dropped, and she wasn't moving. The middle toppled, and she stared him down. Once the index finger fell, his other hand snapped up like a viper to try and take her hand and bring it to him. She wriggled back faster than he lashed out, back to the wall and arms tucked in. She was just barely out of reach from there.

"Not happening. Cheater." She said, slightly teasing now in spite of herself. Obaz sighed, and after a moment's pause he turned away; it looked like he was giving up, until he bent out of her sight, stood straight again, and walked over to the door to set his shoes on a mat next to it. _'Oh, how thoughtful.' _She couldn't sound more sarcastic speaking aloud.

Obaz returned and set both hands on the bed, pushing himself up to her level. Yang lazily held him back with one foot, pushing him off until he tried again and succeeded in diverting her interfering leg. He was on all fours for a moment until he found a way in the restricted space to get cross-legged. His hands were palms-up, waiting for hers to be willingly placed into them. She had returned to her almost-pinup pose that showed her confidence.

"Breaking into girls' rooms, crawling into their beds and making grabby hands? Wouldn't Ms. Goodwitch like to hear about this...?" He looked as stony as a lawyer in court. She flicked the brim of his hat and knocked it off his head, getting it to fall onto the floor much too far below for him to retrieve without leaving his hard-earned position.

"Are you done?" Obaz had the attitude of an adult waiting out a child's tantrum. Yang stuck out her tongue. Very mature.

Minutes rolled by in silence. He wasn't going to force her cooperation, but he wasn't leaving until he got what he wanted either. Yang sighed; sitting up like it was a crime to do so, and setting her hands knuckles-up in his. Obaz studied them with all the focus of a jeweller appraising some precious stone.

"These are tightly wound, still clean... So you _do_ learn." She thought she saw a fleeting smirk, but it was gone just as fast as she tried to tilt her head and get a better view. That distraction gone, she mumbled under her breath, something about how derisive he could be.

"Are you still in pain?"

"Well, yeah. Otherwise I'd be pummeling you right now." Obaz frowned, though she was joking... maybe. She took it as a sign of concern; "Well, there isn't much you can do about that... unless you wanna kiss it better."

He gave her a quizzical look, having a hard time reading between the lines, as usual. As she went to tell him that was a joke, Obaz craned his neck, lifted her left hand, and pressed his lips to her bandage.

Yang's thought process came to a full halt, trying to dissect what she had just witnessed. Obaz –yes, that's right, _Obaz_ –had kissed her. On the hand. Well, that was a token of respect, a courtesy in some countries, no big deal. Half a dozen more strings of reasoning like this formed in her head, and each time the thought _'he kissed me'_ drowned such thoughts until that was all that was left, because that was the only thing that mattered about this moment. From head to toe, Yang flushed scarlet, and drew her hands back from the sandy-haired boy in front of her.

Obaz looked confused again, but it was cautionary, as her reaction said he had done something wrong. This was unknown territory, and he was blind navigating it. "... are you alright?" Maybe he pressed too hard, causing more pain.

She nodded. Her hand was tingling, but it hadn't hurt. It occurred to her that any other boy in this situation would be getting the beating of his life, but Obaz' character made clear that he had only adhered to her request, nothing more. No ploy to get into her good graces, no hidden agenda. He just wanted her to feel better, and that fact had her reacting far differently than she would.

So it happened that when Obaz thought he should go to leave, Yang blushed even more upon putting her hands back in his. "... I've got two hands, you know."

Once seeing that Yang was bright as a stop sign, Obaz realized how she was interpreting his actions with the awkwardness of a teenager that not once thought of intimacy. He wanted to abandon ship, but he was the one who had stubbornly put himself here, and she was asking him what he saw as a favor for an injured friend. This indecision led him to clumsily take her other hand and kiss the back of it, and unless she told him he could go, they were trapped.

"Better?"

"... not quite." He kissed each of her hands again, lingering in the act in hopes of that being satisfactory. All it seemed to do was tempt her to lie and have him try once more; she was surprised when even his cheeks were starting to change shades to a light red.

Obaz watched her expectantly. Without his hat on, his hair had naturally parted in certain places and made eye contact more possible; honestly, he wasn't all that attractive. His hair was a dirty blonde that seemed lackluster were they to walk side by side. His facial features weren't captivating. He had the nicest, straightest teeth she ever did see, but almost never did see them since the guy never did smile. His eyes had those signs of late nights and early mornings, never sleeping. Not to say he was off-putting; she just wouldn't pick the boy out of a crowd. Despite all this, she liked the tone of his voice; it remained the same most often, yes, but it was calm, cool, like every word could easily reassure and those subtle changes you could inflict with some effort all felt like a small victory. The hazel of his eyes captured every moment and left nothing behind, every memory she treasured with him could be played back. He hadn't lied once since she met him, and though he was stubborn as an ox it was always for good reason, like helping her heal so she could come back to normal routine. Had he bit down his jealousy every time he gently tended her two hands; twice more than he still owned?

Yang reached out and touched the side of his face, and Obaz flinched like it were ice-cold, drawing away and nearly falling off the bunk. He righted himself, and his eyes flickered a dark blue until he was straight and still. How many people had a semblance that changed their eye color? How likely was it that she had met with another? That blue had been her favorite in a boy?

Obaz was looking at his hands like he usually did for answers. For the first time he wouldn't find a trace there. She had an urge to hug him, hold him close, mesh her hand with his and fall asleep with his company. Suddenly coming out with that or worse yet trying to lead him into it would just send Obaz teetering off the bunk again, and this time he would let himself tumble just so he could get up and walk away.

Just watching him sit there and think, think, think in that unendingly active mind of his was annoying. Did he ever listen to his heart? Did it even have a voice anymore, always being shut out by that temperamental brain? Yang adjusted so she sat on her shins, legs folded, and leaned toward Obaz so she could move his bangs and kiss his forehead. She had done it while in this recent train of thought, and by the time she noticed she had done something it was already over. He looked confused, like when this whole exchange first started.

"Why did you do that?"

"I kissed it better." Yang said matter-of-factly.

Obaz blinked a few times. She saw other people do that when bewildered, but not him. "... I see."

"You can return the favor anytime... Now would be a good time for me." She wanted to say she hurt all over. It was the sweetest lie she ever came up with.

"Yang... I just..." Obaz trailed off. He seemed at a loss for words, another first. He slipped his fingers through her hair, moving it back a little as he got closer. He was so close...

... and then everything went dark.

/

"Yang! Wake up already! You sleep like a rock!" Ruby's shrill voice woke her. Yang was slow to rise at first, but when her dream put itself back together in her head she almost jumped into the ceiling. She dreamt about Obaz kissing her. Her first instinct when this seemed undeniable was to hit things and try to forget, but she couldn't hit things and she wouldn't forget. Not anytime soon; that was one of those vivid dreams that stays with you for weeks, and every now and then you remember much further down the road. Oh dear god, it was one of those.

It couldn't have meant anything.

She had no deeply hidden desire to hug Obaz, hold him close, mesh her hand in his and fall asleep with his company. Though that was an oddly specific thing to _not_ bury in the dark corners of your inner vault... One day soon she was going to knock him out with more contempt than he seemed to deserve.

"Falls asleep before we even get here and sleeps even longer than we do..." Weiss chose to shake her head in envy rather than finish the statement, completing her usual look with the pin in her hair. There was a knock at the door, and Blake opened it to reveal Obaz in the doorway. Yang felt something flutter in her chest, and wrote it off as nothing.

"Greetings." Blake allowed him to step inside, leaving as soon as he was no longer blocking her path. Ruby looked up at him from a chair near their dresser when he spoke to her;

"I believe I might have forgotten my hat here yesterday evening. Have you seen it?"

Something lit up in Yang's head, but she couldn't tell what exactly. Ruby tapped a finger to her chin; "Um... I think I saw it last night. Oh!" She pointed to the base of the bunk topped with Yang's own, a hint of denim by the post in the corner. "Someone must have knocked it onto the floor."

Yang loomed over the side of her bunk. She stared at the hat, wide-eyed. There was just no way this could be real. Obaz yoinked the headwear off the ground and set it snugly; she hadn't even noticed the uncommon sight of him without it since he wasn't wearing it in most her dream. Hell, it was even more uncommon for him to forget the thing somewhere. Looking up at her as she lurched over the bedside, their eyes locked. She felt in need of a drink.

"You slept well, it sounds to me. I apologize; I could not come here and change the bandages on your hands last night." Something in her throat suddenly weighed like lead and dropped into her belly. Disappointment? Relief?

"Are we still on for target practice today?" Ruby cut in. Obaz nodded to her, and then turned back to Yang as she began to speak.

"You can stop coming to fix them. I can do it right myself now." She even had mixed feelings for her own words now. She blinked rapidly when he replied;

"... I figured."

The corner of his mouth moved; possibly signs of the fabled smirk. The lead weight rose back up as she watched him go with a wave to Weiss.

Yang sat and brooded over the dream and the subsequent morning... She occasionally touched one hand with the other, lost in thought.


	4. What is 'Tickling' (Ch 15-B)

**What is 'Tickling'? (Ch. 12.5)**

**|This was strictly for fun. Apologies if any of the canon cast stray a little bit from their characters, but I tried my best.|**

Today was the day that Obaz was meant to keep his arrangement with Mr. Oobleck, and even though he clearly wasn't fond of doing it Obaz was good at making the class think more creatively regarding a certain piece of history on any given day. Assuming he hadn't put together a semi-lesson on whatever they might be learning in class when he was called upon like this, Obaz' ability to improvise was just as good academically as it was physically.

Because of this, he hadn't noticed Laera and Yang sitting further back than usual in the class and whispering conspiratorially. Laera knew that he was most distracted when made to lecture like this, so she felt it almost safe to assume he couldn't hear them or didn't care to listen at the distance they were. Shortly before they entered the class, Yang had been muttering angrily about Obaz' behaviour ever since they had sparred together a handful of days ago. Since then, he had eaten lunch with Ruby three times, helped her late at night with homework twice... and most of all, according to Ruby; 'had a private session at the gun course' with her. She had claimed his marksmanship needed work, but was impressed by his 'equipment'.

Of course, when told all of this, Yang decided it was time to get to the bottom of things with Obaz himself. That was when she discovered that he was angry with her in the first place; if she so much as said a word to him he would frown, maybe even grunt, and walk away from her. If she persisted, he would round on her and blatantly refuse or shoot down anything she said, hop back on his merry way and be out of her sight in seconds. Afterwards, even browsing his usual haunts wouldn't turn him up.

Weiss had made her sit down for a moment when it appeared she might burst a blood vessel with how much he aggravated her lately; he was giving a whole new meaning to the words 'cold shoulder', and Yang wasn't used to being utterly shut down like that. She wasn't used to any person acting that way near her let alone _to_ her; she wasn't used to Obaz himself, one could say, and maybe she never could get used to him –he was a brick wall to the headstrong, direct way she dealt with others.

Today, shortly before they left the hallway into class, Yang had tried asking the gossipmonger Laera what she may have seen or heard about Obaz that were 100% truth, interested in anything involving her sister. Laera was still glowering over their fight they had after the phone call with her father, and had responded with what little she could tell Yang that she knew was true, amusedly adding the story about trying to tickle him only to find he didn't even know what it meant. Since then, Yang had been most intrigued.

"Where do you think he _is _ticklish, then?" Yang wondered. The question sparked their imaginations, and bearing in mind Obaz had not treated either of the two all that well lately, finding out sounded precariously close to 'payback'.

"I tried his ribs already, and you know how that turned out. Maybe the neck? Back of the knees?" They both skimmed over the boy with their eyes like lions stalking a zebra, deciding whether to go straight for the throat or knock out the legs first. Maybe they should take him down when the herd moved on; have Ruby distract him so he leaves in dead last, wide open. It was a rule of nature that the stragglers were targeted, surely Obaz even knew.

"He'll kick and he'll scream. He doesn't make anything easy." Laera talked like they were cornering a rabid beast. Yang seemed to relish the challenge.

"Yeah, but we might have him laughing by the end. Maybe even smiling. Have you ever seen him do either of those things?" Laera would soon find Obaz could laugh, but only when Regis had a golden moment that was actually comical, which basically meant he laughed perhaps once a year. Right now, the thought of having Obaz in the grips of a tickle fit was like having someone dare you to go into old man Denker's haunted house; test the urban legend and possibly risk your young life.

They sized up their own forces; Yang seemed certain of herself. "We'll have to trick Ruby into helping if we need her to, but that won't be hard. Blake is almost sure to join willfully. Weiss... wants to watch, but she'll act like she doesn't. You?"

"He's like an awkward teddy bear to Sophia; she won't lay a finger on him. Regis is probably in, just not hands-on." Three, maybe four against one. The odds were with them, at least. After classes, Obaz would visit the courtyard for a moment –Yang and Laera would have to rope together their group and follow quickly.

"What about me?" Nora was sitting in the row of seats left of them, and her whispering was still obnoxiously loud. She had overheard them... Pyrrha and Ren had their eyes on the plotting Laera and Yang as well, a certain glimmer in their eyes. Their pride of predators had just doubled.

"Nora can't do stealth." Ren dryly said.

"I can too! Remember the sloth sound?!" Obaz snapped on Nora, instantly hitting her with two questions that she tried to answer in her bubbly, content manner. He cut that manner and the answers she supplied with cold resentment, and soon went back to the rest of the class. Nora sat down, her smile faltering for just a moment.

The floundering of Nora's never-ending smile was almost like watching Obaz' omnipresent frown come out victorious. Laera sighed. "You'll get your chance, Nora. Just... stay farther back until we go through with it."

"I'll tickle his head off." Nora claimed. They didn't put it past her to do so literally.

Class was dismissed, Obaz aiming to be the first one out but Oobleck wanted a word with him; something he said about Cardin earlier in the class had sparked an argument. They wouldn't even need Ruby to stall him for the time being, so Yang and Laera zipped out of class to catch Blake, Weiss and Regis in the hallway.

Regis proved to be what they had expected of him; given the chance he would trip the fleeing Obaz or other such tricks, but not actively participate. Weiss, much the same, said he was the last person she wanted anything to do with today but followed the group with airs of not being involved. Blake smirked impishly at the prospect of sneaking up on Obaz for such harmless reasons... cats did love to play, after all, and Obaz was like a ball of yarn no one could seem to unravel.

They tailed Obaz to the courtyard, as they had anticipated of him, and he briefly chatted with Steven who called him over partway through speaking with Jaune himself. Upon leaving the two to their own devices, the girls and Ren crept after him, all trying to look natural and spread themselves out according to team members. The plan was perfect, and they started to close in on their unsuspecting prey... what they weren't counting on was Steven's belligerent interference at the last second, having noticed their odd behaviour;

"Pretty popular, aren't you, Obaz?!" He called out after the sandy-haired Huntsman. Being called out in specific, Obaz would always undoubtedly turn to reply even if it were an extension of his farewell… so he turned around, saw five women and a boy that weren't supposed to be so close or looking at him so hungrily, and paused for not a moment before bolting from the spot.

Ren was catching up alongside Laera and Blake, while Pyrrha, Nora and Yang were at least keeping pace. Once they chased him around the fountain Pyrrha jumped in, cutting through the water and diving out at Obaz to miss by a hair but trip him up slightly. Blake caught a hold of one of his feet in her own dive and miss, Obaz frantically wriggling his boot free of her grasp and escaping. Laera grabbed his arm and he wrestled it back, and just when Ren looked like he might succeed in Obaz' capture he shouted in the panic of someone lost beyond reason for the only person it seemed was on his side; "STEVEN!"

Steven was already darting from the next part of his conversation with Jaune, intercepting Ren and taking him down with rolling laughter. They struggled and Steven got up, being held back by Ren and now Pyrrha as well. Nora started building speed and kept in step with the faster members on Obaz' heels as they got back into the front doors of Beacon. Weiss shook her head, not attempting to follow that far as it was sure to become hectic keeping up.

Steven had cut his pursuers by two, but there were four more with competitive grins that resembled wolves all chasing the same elk. Obaz ran faster, with straight posture that Blake found some piece of her mind admiring; it reminded her of a certain film actor. Tim Cruise? The name was something of that sort. He hung the next corner and ran into the cafeteria, where a few handfuls of students were scattered around for a late lunch break; they would get to see a spectacle with their food today.

Obaz' first order of business was jumping onto the far end of a lunch table, see-sawing it into an upright position and kicking it that way to seal the door behind him. It held Nora for maybe a fraction of a second as she barreled through it with a shoulder charge that launched it tumbling on an angle past Obaz now. The other three girls swerved in to take different sides and try to box him in before he left out some other exit. Nora leaped into the air and tried to land on him in hopes of pinning him down, but he dipped down and left, under a table and out of her reach.

The girls swarmed the table, each on one side. Obaz grasped two of the table legs and kept it with him as he got upright, using it to rush Blake who circled the makeshift riot shield like a ghost and jabbed a hand into his neck, fingers wiggling wildly and causing him to cinch his head and shoulder together in attempts to clamp the limb and make it stop whatever the hell it was doing. He vaguely recalled a similar sensation; the early onset of what Laera once tried to do.

Tickling? This was about trying to _tickle_ him? What had he done to warrant this? He hadn't evaded any questions lately... other than Laera's concerning Mr. Petto. And every advance Yang made. Laera and Yang were no doubt behind this considering these motives and their covert conversation in the back end of the history room... Damned if he could have heard what they were talking about and it had eaten at him during class because he could almost _sense_ they hadn't wanted him to know. Trying to discard the event had led to this... nonsensical blindsiding he was being subjected to.

Obaz whirled to escape Blake's reach now, and when Yang's hands almost got a solid grasp of his arm he fell backward, winding up under the table again but pushing it screeching along the ground until he was past Blake and Yang, rolling out from under it and resuming the sprint away from these crazy girls. The miscellaneous students nearby watched in wonder as he vaulted over a few chairs, some occupied, running for another hallway when Laera tackled him into that hall as he tried to turn. She clung on like a vice grip as he tried to stand, yelling to the others fast approaching; "Get his boots! Bottom of the feet!"

Who in their right mind invented this tickling activity, and better yet why did it apply to something like the bottoms of your feet?

Nora had a hand on each of his boots and reefed on them, and Obaz kicked her in the shoulder. Laera was attached from behind him, and he thrashed and wriggled in her deathly embrace until he flung his head back, hitting hers and causing a startled yelp that eased her grip. He freed himself, but Nora had succeeded in taking his boots away and Blake landed on his back with her arms wrapped around his neck, poking on either side.

Obaz made a sound in response to the attack that may have been a repressed laugh, but sounded like choking on steel wool or something equally as painful. Yang thought for a moment that maybe his vocal cords were rusted from not having made such sounds in so long, just before watching Obaz lunge backfirst into the wall to break out of Blake's hold and beat feet toward the hall adjoining to the locker rooms.

None of them were really harmed, but rattled all the same by Obaz' tenacity. Yang and Laera were closest on him having expected as much from the guy, and when passing the locker rooms Obaz was grabbed by a pair of arms striking from the crack of the open door lightning-fast, dragging him inside.

Pyrrha now had him in some variety of headlock, grip like iron. Ren was missing from the equation it seemed, and Pyrrha called out to the others as he writhed. "I've got him... hurry up! It's like holding greased ice!"

Yang made it in and grabbed one flailing leg, Nora taking another while Blake and Laera each went to take an arm. Obaz' right was claimed but his left arm got more violent, even grabbing a locker and throwing it onto its side. They would soon have him, and more than just wherever he may be 'ticklish' would be found.

Steven appeared in the doorway, and Obaz could almost see a glow radiating from him like the paragon of virtue that he was before he scooped up Yang and Nora. He had one in the crook of each arm, lifting them off the ground away from Obaz and bellowing a mighty "Nope!" Perhaps he just found it fun to fight the losing battle in these scenarios.

He fell over as the girls tried to fight him off, but tilted so the three fell away from the door. Obaz kicked off the floor and went upside-down for a moment above Pyrrha, Laera releasing his arm in fear it might twist abnormally and Pyrrha reluctantly releasing his head when she started to fall backward in a suplex-like motion. He had a path zig-zagging between the girls to the open door, but Ren caught up and filled the doorway though he was panting with exhaustion from dealing with Steven and eventually having failed. Rapidly searching a way out, he threw down another locker between himself and Laera along with Pyrrha before finding a narrow window that he eased open and crawled out from. There was the feeling of nails that barely raked the arches of his feet, and he cried out in what may have been surprise.

This was a terrible day. Obaz made a mental note to hate this day. It would be his least favorite day from now on, until certain misfortunes in southern Vale near the wharf topped it.

He turned to face the window, and what was happening behind him almost got him to laugh. It was so close to the outcome they wanted without nearly the same methodology that it was downright hilarious, but Obaz strangled his urge to laugh just to spite them and chose instead to sit down and watch.

That very narrow space was like a mail slot really, and no matter how hard she tried Yang was simply… too well-equipped in certain areas to fit through like he had, being the somewhat gaunt person that he was. She glared at him while trying to give chase, a fire in her eyes that could burn cities to the ground, and finally someone else chose to take her place while advising Yang to go around. Pyrrha, being this reasonable individual, got stuck next. Laera and Nora didn't even try, and Blake may have been able to bend her way through somehow being what she was, but Obaz had no chance to find out as Ren was next in line; he had forgotten the green-clad male was even involved, and soon this member of JNPR was slithering out from the window like an iniquitous snake.

Obaz fled the scene; having waited too long, Yang had trekked around the building from another exit, already alongside Ren and hot on his heels. There were few ways to go from here, and it was unlikely he could lose them from the gun range... Without warning, he jumped up and clung to the window just outside Peter Port's current class, drawing all the heads in the room as he began to scale the building freestyle. Ren started climbing after him with haste.

He threw an arm over the edge of the roof, and Blake awaited him at the top of the building with a confident smirk; she must have seen him when he started the action, and either leapt up here with her aura or climbed much faster with her feline prowess. Obaz introduced her to one of his talents that she was sure to love; when she stooped down to claim him from the ledge he put his thumb and forefinger to his mouth and whistled. Her greater hearing caused Blake to reel back like he was radioactive, cringing as the noise reverberated in her head and threw her off just enough for Obaz to strike out at a run across Beacon's roof.

Pyrrha and Nora were both reaching the roof now opposite the way he came from, Yang herself not far behind, and lacking a better route from here Obaz threw himself into some kind of exhaust vent for the heating ducts. Tumbling down the shaft, he struck stainless steel for a little while until the full force of his weight crashed through the ceiling… of none other than Ms. Goodwitch's office.

The teacher was in, as luck would have it. Glynda adjusted her glasses, peering over her desk at the student on the floor, surrounded by tin sheets of duct, bits of stucco and paint dust. Obaz sat up abruptly, taking in his surroundings. Nonchalantly, he got to his feet, brushed himself off, and looked Ms. Goodwitch in the eye. "My apologies; I will pay for those repairs. Now, if you would excuse me; I am currently being chased."

Obaz walked out of the room and came to a jog once in the hallway. Glynda sat with her best displeased instructor face on in wait of who turned out to be Yang dropping in next, followed closely by Nora face-first. They both looked at her, Yang turning white as a sheet and leaving with some rapid-fire apologies of her own while Nora was beaming as she simply left. Glynda shook her head. Kids these days...

/

They lost Obaz once he left the office, and no amount of searching turned him up. After a time the crack team gave up the mission for now, parting ways and returning to their dorms. Yang and Blake were mildly plotting a good time to try all that again, but after that Yang said good-bye and went to visit some other friends of hers. Blake intended to pick up her most recent book from where she left off.

Opening the door to their dorm room, Blake was greeted by none of her teammates, but Obaz was standing between the bunks and in the process of something on his scroll. How he had gotten in by himself was a mystery, but it was damned clever of him to hole up here, though unfortunate that he had chosen to stay for so long.

Blake locked the door behind her.

Obaz dropped the scroll and tensed up.

There was a flicker of movement from both sides as Blake tried to tackle him to the floor and Obaz attempted to duck beneath the expected lunge, but only succeeded in taking a cat girl to the chest instead of the waist. Once she had him by his shoulders against the wall, he held his hands up in surrender. There was no space to fight her off, and she would have him in some other, more uncomfortable restraining position by the time he tried to disengage the lock. "Alright. You have caught me."

"Is that so?" Blake wasn't so trusting right now. They both turned their heads when Ruby's voice emanated from his scroll;

"Obaz? It's getting kinda late. What's up?"

"Call off your sister and her friends, for heaven's sake –"

Blake hung up the call, and Obaz showed discontent like it wasn't his usual expression. They locked eyes for a little while, Blake having a stir of déjà vu, which passed when Obaz stopped resisting with an agitated sigh. Blake prodded him in the neck, the sides, the back of the knees, feet. No response at all. He seemed outright defensive of his left arm, so she left it be; it may turn out to be a sore spot for reasons outside sensitivity, if her ears were any example.

"So you simply aren't ticklish... That's rather anti-climactic." Blake made a small frown. Like he had when they met in the training room, Obaz felt at odds with himself when he beheld it.

"I would like to take my leave, if you do not mind."

"What is your relationship with Ruby?" Putting Yang's mind at ease would likely dispel this whole fiasco. Obaz slapped a hand to his forehead.

"We are friends... Just friends. I was not even aware of that much until recently... that is all. Now _Good night_." He emphasized the bidding of his departure before turning to grasp the doorknob, but Blake ran an index finger very lightly all the way up his spine. The sensation was making him break out in goosebumps, and he jumped forward into the door with a thump to escape the experience. That had to be the most unpleasant thing that wasn't painful, and with a glance over his shoulder he caught Blake grinning coyly for the second time that day.

"It may not be much, but that's definitely something I have on you now... You can go ahead."

Obaz left the dorm just as Ruby went to enter, and they exchanged glances but he looked ready to murder someone so she let him go with a momentary greeting and parting. Upon asking Blake what Obaz was doing there, she snickered a bit.

"Ruby, have you ever thought Obaz may be ticklish?" That seemed unrelated to the question, but a certain glimmer caught her eye...


	5. Spar 2 (Ch 17-B)

**Combat Class Sparring, Pt. 2**

Ms. Goodwitch called the class to attention. It was strange; she could swear she had seen Obaz enter the class, but he was gone by the looks of it. Considering what day it was, and the fact that Yang Xiao Long hadn't arrived to partake in the class today, piecing together where he had gone to wasn't so hard. Hopefully the two of them wouldn't cause each other any grief outside her supervision today… Turning back to the matter at hand, as usual she began picking students;

"Regis Agemont." He came jogging up from the back of the class, and considering the students had been hoping to see an impressive fight between members of RSOL and RWBY, chose to try for such a substitution. "… and Weiss Schnee."

Would that be good enough...? Maybe, but she could do better. "Blake Belladonna, come alongside Ms. Schnee. Cardin Winchester, partner with Regis." Chatter soon hit the small crowd. The two-on-two sounded interesting; Cardin and Regis were known to be friends, but how well did they fight together?

Cardin had his mace resting on his shoulder. Regis shifted from foot to foot, cracking his knuckles. "Like old times, isn't it?"

"Sure is. Should we scrap with 'em like that, or do this the Beacon way?" Regis asked. Cardin sneered.

"I say we crush them… Partner." Regis nodded affirmation. Weiss and Blake shared few words.

Regis' Sable Regalia wouldn't be turned on for sparring, as having saws dig into your peers in a friendly spar is not very friendly. This would allow Regis to make more accurate strikes, since his weapons wouldn't be jittering like usual.

"This match will be going by regional pairs-tournament rules; ring-outs result in that member and their teammate to lose, the aura of both members of a pair must be depleted to red standing to win. Begin."

Ms. Goodwitch motioned for the match to start, and the first thing Regis and Cardin did was get closer together as Blake and Weiss closed in. The two took on the girls back-to-back, Cardin taking a few shots through the gaps in his defense by the agile Weiss but Regis did well in dodging and deflecting the strikes of Blake's blade. When Blake shifted Gambol Shroud so she held the katana within as well as the sharp scabbard, Regis snagged both her wrists in his hands and quickly turned around with her like a tango dancer. He shouted something, and once he was facing Cardin the redhead had spun about himself, ignoring Weiss momentarily to swing his mace as hard as he could into Blake's back.

This also sent Regis rocketing along with Blake to the floor, but Regis had gotten ready as his own back met the ground to ram the bottom of his foot against Blake and throw her off of him, which on the angle they were would hurl her out of the arena. He succeeded in kicking thin air, as Blake disappeared from his grasp and returned at his side with a downward stab of her katana. Regis rolled away, but the edge grazed his arm.

Weiss had gotten a solid stab into Cardin's shoulder when he turned away to brutalize Blake, but his armor had made the attack suffer in strength and soon Cardin was clumsily fighting her back. She easily evaded the lumbering swings of his mace, but Regis came rolling across the ground away from Blake and brought himself into a sweeping motion, like he was running with his body parallel to the ground to try to trip her. Weiss jumped above this, but Cardin took her in the waist with a strong blow that knocked her a few feet from them.

Regis broke for Weiss being the faster of the two, and though Weiss froze him to the floor Cardin broke him free after seeing what became of his ally. Just as Regis intended to chase after Weiss again, his neck was encircled by the ribbon on Gambol Shroud and he was yanked from his feet, dragged toward the darker female. Cardin lost his chance to stop Weiss' glyph-propelled kick to his chest when he lingered on Regis being hauled away too long.

Blake reeled Regis in and held the scabbard ready to drop down on his torso when close enough, but Regis fought the urge to try and untangle the ribbon around his neck to get up on his hands and swing his legs at Blake, causing her to abandon her plan and block Sable Regalia. Once there was some slack in the ribbon, Regis got to his feet only to accept a nice slash to his abdomen. He brought a flurry of kicks to the table, and ended these with a trio of spinning kicks in midair aimed for her head but they were all dodged and blocked. For now, Regis had her on the defensive.

Cardin had withstood more attacks from the quick and crafty Weiss while this was happening, and though he was keeping up well enough to keep from outright losing he wasn't gaining any ground on her either. After a time, he took a frustrated and reckless charge through a stab of Myrtenaster's and got a kick to her stomach that sent her a ways away. Weiss got her bearings from there, and seeing Blake give her a nod, knew she had something planned; this led her to give Cardin a time-out by freezing his mace to the ground where he held it near; it was in thick, so it would take him a few moments to get it loose, and his hand holding it was also caught in the ice.

Regis had nearly knocked Blake's head off and her legs from under her a few times but that semblance of hers was keeping him from causing serious harm. When he finally tried a spinning heel-drop aimed at her shoulder, Blake stopped his leg and threw Gambol Shroud to her left; it stuck in the ground a fair distance from her, and with a well-aimed kick she slammed Regis in the stomach, throwing him into the length of ribbon between herself and the embedded blade of her weapon. Weiss saw exactly where she was going with this; using her motion glyphs, Weiss prepared Regis when he hit the ribbon like they had when they launched Ruby at the Nevermore during their initiation, and with a flick of her wrist the boy was sling-shot right out of the arena.

"Winners: Weiss Schnee and Blake Belladonna. That was splendid teamwork, all four of you." Cardin groused that Regis had caused his loss, and Regis light-heartedly accepted, saying things like 'better luck next time, I guess' though he had to peel himself off the far wall first. Despite appearances, Regis had shown he was capable, being the one that had really carried them as far as they went. Ruby excitedly told her teammates how proud she was, and even shared a high-five with them both as they returned. Glynda already started picking the next sparring partners.

"Pyrrha Nikos, and..." Mystral champion that she was, no one was looking forward to fighting against her, but the name Glynda uttered next was a surprise; "Steven Gemell. Yes –you, Steven."

The students looked between one another; Steven wasn't in this class today. In fact, none of them had seen Steven in the ring at all because there were very few times he had this class and none they knew of that Glynda had called him to the stand. Upon following Ms. Goodwitch's line of sight, Steven was standing near the doorway leading into the room; having been on his way past and fully geared he looked confused to hear his name. Glynda gestured for him to come forward, and he waded through the students to push himself up onto the arena floor. They exchanged a few words and he looked yet more confused.

Pyrrha turned to look at Jaune, recalling the trip they had taken to Vale. "That's your friend, isn't it Jaune?"

He nodded, and followed by saying simply; "... Be careful." She knew that Steven's team held Helena among its members, which meant Steven may be more knowledgeable than other students would be in fighting against her, but she hadn't expected Jaune to make that kind of observation.

She took her position opposite of Steven, and Glynda was allowing him to stretch and such not having been present beforehand. It was now, when Steven unfurled his giant sword, that Pyrrha saw why Jaune had warned her; he started by swinging it ten or so times in the style a kendo swordsman would swing a wooden training sword, but with the speed of one despite the size of the thing. After that, he whirled it from side to side, leaving thick gashes in the floor until finally he held it in both hands, standing sideways with the blade angled slightly upward and the grip held just next to his face. Maybe he was leader of team _Strength_ for basic reasons... She would later hear Jaune saying Steven was called 'the Executioner' by his teammates, and note that was for good reason.

Glynda signaled the start of the match. The usual easy-smiling, often-joking expression on Steven's face hardened into tight determination as the boy charged forward. Pyrrha met him with Akoúo̱ predominantly forward and Miló set to short sword form. Steven rammed the hilt of his weapon into her shield when they grew close; far from one of the great swings from earlier she was expecting. He continued to keep up these quick jabs, testing her reflexes by spreading out his targeted areas. It was also keeping him from leaving any openings in his own stance, as when Pyrrha would move to slash at him with Miló he was prepared to quickly re-position his blade so the flat was forward and the weapon itself stood straight up, with one hand bracing the flat on his own side. The position with the grip near his face made guiding himself into that kind of block easy, and if she took her attacks to his lower body his leg most forward had a shin-guard that he lifted to shield himself with whenever necessary, and wherever his weapon could not cover him without difficulty. The caution he was showing and careful deliberation of his defense were impressive; both of them were going to have to force a chance to deal good hits out of their opponent.

Pyrrha bashed the next hilt-jab away with Akoúo̱ and used the opportunity to bring a diagonally upward cut at Steven's midsection with Miló. Steven used the force of her throwing his weapon away to divert the blade; he switched his right hand to face his left on the grip, bringing the sword into a draw, back past his ribs rather than over the shoulder. He leaned his weight onto his backmost leg and ducked low, evading the diagonal slice just barely –Miló even cut a few of his rust-colored hairs on the way by. Pyrrha swiftly caught on to what he was planning; his furthest leg was coiled to spring, his new grip pent-up into what would make a most powerful upward slash. She leaped back, just fast enough to dodge this oncoming attack.

Or so it first appeared, but Steven flashed orange just once and shot off from his position, but kept the blade prepared underhand, dragging the weapon against the floor with his lunge for her. Pyrrha lifted her shield, and Steven unleashed the attack but just glanced the edge of Akoúo̱, leaving a five-foot rend in the floor from where he had been to her location. His swing had only nicked her shield, but the force had actually sent Pyrrha spinning until she caught herself with her feet and her sword hand against the ground; just one direct shot after one of those orange flashes of his could spell the end of this fight.

The attack had forced Steven to let the heavy blade go over him and come crashing down behind; he had let go with one hand knowing he couldn't stop it from completing the arc and this left him drastically exposed. Pyrrha darted for him with an overhead slash she jumped with in order to come down with her strength and a little boost from gravity. Lacking options, Steven propped himself up on one leg and did his best to put his shin guard up to stop the assault but was thrown back when she struck, hitting the floor and skidding a little ways. She hurled Akoúo̱ after him, which took him hard in the chest and set him sprawling further from her.

Steven made effort to catch himself in that of a sprinter's starting stance, which made his recovery from the projectile an extremely quick one as he homed in on her again. Pyrrha met his blade with her own and made it slide off course, digging into the floor at her side while catching Akuo in her free hand. She slammed the bottom edge of the shield into Steven's shoulder, then his back when this dipped him lower, and he brought his sword from the floor into a fast slapping motion with the flat that caught her in the elbow and most of her midsection, tossing her aside slightly. Her arm stung from the hit, and before she could try to recuperate Steven let go with his left hand and brought a haymaker into the crook of her neck and shoulder, slamming her into the ground.

Pyrrha rolled onto her back and held her shield up to defend against the blows that may rain down while she was laid out, but Steven had bigger plans; his weapon being the rectangular slab that it was, he stepped around her and scraped it under her back like a spatula, lifting her entire body off the floor and over his head to squash her back down on the opposite side of him. The devastating force of the flip shook the ring.

Pyrrha was dazed for a moment, pushing herself up off the floor and shaking her head clear. The dust began to settle, and looking up from where she was Steven had gotten his blade over his shoulder, legs wide apart, and his aura was swirling around him menacingly. He flashed once, and he may have already flashed once before when she was disoriented. She had to move.

Throwing herself away from Steven with the best push she could, his sword came down like a guillotine. Glynda had actually made a glyph form over where Pyrrha had just been to stop the motion; if she had still been beneath that glyph, Steven would have been named the winner as that blow would have caused severe injury or death. Because she escaped ground zero before the calamity came down, the glyph vanished and the match simply carried on. Even with the split-second interference from the glyph, once Steven's blade was free of it the weapon sank into the floor to a point where nearly half of the massive thing was underground. He wrenched it out in a rain of debris.

In cover of this veil of wreckage, Pyrrha burst into Steven's personal space and planted her shield squarely between his eyes. He took a slice to the bicep, and got a feeble cut into Pyrrha's leg as well. She rammed him with Akoúo̱ and he met this with the flat of his weapon braced against his shoulder, and when they parted from this Steven shot forward with a hilt-jab to her chest while she clobbered the side of his head with Miló's own.

A glyph appeared right between them now; that was twice Ms. Goodwitch cut in to their fight when in most circumstances she never did. She stepped forward and gestured for the two to be at ease; their auras were both indicated as red.

"Now here, students, we have a very rare example of a tie. In an actual tournament setting, the judges would select a winner based on overall performance throughout the battle. I my experience, this match would have taken some time to judge… it was quite close. We will be leaving the outcome of this spar as it is officially; tomorrow, I would like you all to hand these in to me telling me who you thought would have been chosen as the winner and why."

Glynda gave Weiss and Sophia stacks of handouts, and the class seemed relatively disparate to the idea of written work for a class such as this one; usually it was treated as an escape from such assignments. There was still a sense of awe amongst the class at the moment, as someone managed to draw with the famed Mistral champion herself, and the match had been an intense one. If this had not been an enclosed event on Beacon grounds, it would have been newsworthy.

Pyrrha and Steven used the same small flight of stairs to exit the stage, and Steven exchanged some kind of handshake with Jaune before removing himself from the class entirely. Pyrrha watched him go, still a bit unsettled from their bout.

"Sorry, I should have been less vague… I knew Steve was tough, but I could have said more. That Anvil Cleaver of his is nuts." Jaune seemed apologetic, possibly blaming himself for this dent in her Beacon sparring record as undefeated. She technically still was, but the tie would still sit there as a blemish. The name _Anvil Cleaver_ for his giant sword was quite fitting, she cited in the back of her mind. If he charged up three times, he could probably cut right through Akoúo̱ like butter. The thought gave her shivers.

"That concludes today's class. Remember that assignment, all of you." Glynda left the arena, hoping to get through some imposing amounts of her own paperwork. She wouldn't have the time once Yang arrived at her office later...


	6. Simple, but Complex (Ch 18-B)

**Simple, but Complex (Ch. 18.5)**

Obaz was alone in the dorm for the time being. Regis had some kind of date to attend to, which he did not hesitate to brag about most of the day. Sophia had gone to visit her brother, who coincidentally lived near one of the shuttle stations catering to Beacon students. Laera was off on one of her colorful nighttime gallivants. At the moment, he was at his desk with several massive blue sheets that he was sketching diagrams onto in white. Most of the time these caught the interest of his teammates as they weren't your usual white stationery used for school work, so in the event of having privacy these were given some attention.

There was a trio of knocks at the door. Obaz got up to answer it, and once opening the door found Weiss standing in the hallway... this was unorthodox. She must have had some underlying reason to be here, and he likely had nothing to do with it.

"Is Laera here at the moment?" That certainly supported the theory.

"No, regrettably. May I ask why?"

He had expected her to claim it wasn't his business, which it really wasn't, and make to leave or ask where Laera had gone since she was absent. "We were partnered together for a project in Grimm studies. Will she be back anytime soon?"

"I could not say for certain. Her trips away from the Academy vary in length by quite a bit." He hoped she wouldn't press much on the subject of Laera's disappearances. "You may leave a message here with me if you like."

Weiss' eyes wandered for a moment in thought, but soon she shook her head slightly. "That won't be necessary. Can I come in?"

This was a little more unorthodox. Was something on her mind? Either she figured she could wait in hopes of Laera's return being sooner rather than later or she had something to discuss with Obaz on the side. Regardless, he turned and gestured for her to enter if only to be polite.

"You may take the chair from my desk in the corner here if you wish to have a seat. I have no right of way over the beds, belonging to my teammates." He paused, and then moved toward the kitchenette. "I will be making either coffee or tea. Which would you prefer?"

Weiss watched him shut the door behind her, draw the chair he mentioned in case she wanted to sit, and go to make her something to drink. She had expected good manners, but his posture, way of speaking and thoughtless gestures reminded her of her servants. "Coffee has grown tiresome with Ruby's homework nights. Tea would be nice, thank you."

After setting some water to boil in a kettle on the stove, Obaz took actual tea leaves and spices, grinding them up and putting the result into small bell-like containers. Weiss couldn't remember the last time she had real tea rather than store bought stuff in filter pouches. During a moment of preparing some mugs and teaspoons, Obaz began to speak over his shoulder. "I assume you would like to have a word with me? Or do you simply intend to await Laera's return?" He paused, and then looked at her. "Do you take sugar? Milk?"

"Yes, I did wish to speak with you... And that would be two cubes of sugar, and just a bit of milk." Weiss had difficulty fighting back a small smile. She was having the type of formal, polite conversation that Ruby and Yang simply could not manage. Blake might have been able to, but she wasn't talkative in the first place, so Obaz' courtesy and proper demeanor was the kind she was most used to, and craved from time to time, much like Ruby's mechanic speak.

Obaz took a bag out from the cupboards; upon taking something out of it, she noticed it was one of those wafer cookies with chocolate sandwiched between the crisp layers. The word 'wafer' brought bad memories filed under 'Khiver', allowing her to maintain a slightly sour expression were Obaz to look her way, which he did. "Would you like any of these?"

"No, thank you. Now... Is there absolutely no way I can convince you to stop using that siphon work?" Obaz' mouth pressed thin. Though he sounded agitated, he gave her a compliment, so she wasn't sure how to take it;

"You are more caring than first impressions may suggest." She showed no intent to respond to that, so he continued on. "How long do you think it would have taken me to prepare this tea, and take that bag from the cupboards with just one hand, rather than two?"

Weiss tilted her head; immediately she noticed that yes, these simple things he had just done would have taken at least twice the time he had just now if he were missing his limb. Possible, yes, but that was not what he had asked. "That isn't my point, Obaz –"

"There are many things we take for granted. Do you think I could attend an academy, Beacon or not, with any ease? Say I dropped out of schooling. Would the working world treat me any better? Could I be a dishwasher, a photographer, a cashier of ability that an employer would want over anyone else? Disability funds only take you so far. Vytal's disability program is filled with loopholes that they take advantage of in a rather ugly, cutthroat fashion." Obaz stopped for a moment. "I apologize... I have had a lot of time for this subject. You were saying something?"

Weiss was putting her argument back together, though what he just said put no dent in it; she was just surprised to see him visibly gaining a hateful poison in his voice as he went on until the pause, when normally he was very mild-mannered and single-toned. "Obaz, the bottom line is that this arm is dangerous to your life, and making such a thing a consistency only multiplies that risk. I at the very least want to make sure your idea of improvement for the Marreon leans toward a better fuel source, and not more complex siphon power. You _did _say you were advancing the design."

Obaz began pouring the hot water into the cups, letting the heated beverages steep for a while. "Yes, I have thought about your offer two days ago. I do hope that at one point I can make the Marreon less of a hazard, but I regret to say that dust fuelling is not just something I see no future for in this regard, but is not something I will even consider."

Weiss glared at him with contempt. "Why would you not even consider it? Surely you realize how much safer an alternative it would be."

"Have you ever had to worry about starving, Weiss?" The question almost physically slapped her.

"What does that have to do with this?"

Obaz stirred his own drink, not having added anything to it other than the tea itself. "I have been homeless. There were several years in my life where every day was a struggle to survive. I have stolen, though I am not proud of the fact, and some nights I was nearly beaten to death for that... found myself hurt, cold and hungry. Do you think I would have made it through that time in my life with one arm?"

Weiss blinked a few times. "... probably not. But still –"

Obaz cut her off, and at once she understood; "Given that hypothetical scenario, say I came upon the Marreon. I had a limb that would replace my missing one, and let me live... but this machine ran using Dust. Do you think I could afford Dust? If I could, would I not spend that money on food first? Shelter? Not once during those years had I even seen a crystal, a hint of powder, because I had more important things to worry about. Giving someone the gift of a new limb that had to run using Dust would feel backhanded, in my opinion, as Dust is meant to be a luxury. Though the equipment would come with a base price, making it a financial black hole on top of basic finances... insulting. I may not be able to avoid such a fate for my invention if it gets that far, but implementation of a commodity such as Dust only guarantees it."

"I see... That's a rather compelling way to put it." Weiss accepted the small saucer with her teacup on top from Obaz, blowing slightly on the surface and taking a test sip. "... this is lovely."

"I try. My boss at Petto Automotive was fond of tea." Obaz finished off his wafer cookie, and taking his tea walked past Weiss to sit cross-legged atop his desk. She thought it strange, but tried to ignore it as he spoke again;

"Making the Marreon a siphon work does allow it to function for any given person without having to pour Lien into a finite fuel source, but I am aware that this does not make it morally right. Until I invent a way to make it self-sustaining without being a siphon work, I will only use it to that very end... Although there are other snags to smooth over before I even consider patenting."

She could live with that. As much as it bothered her to do so, Obaz had a right to his own ideology regarding his invention, and normal prosthetics would be there until he succeeded. Whether he risked his life until making that discovery was his decision... For now, she urged him on with what he tagged on the end of his comment; "Snags, such as?"

Obaz gestured to her hand not holding her tea. "Let's have an example; hold up your arm for me, please."

Weiss raised her arm to level height with her shoulder, palm down. "Like this?"

"That is fine. How hard was that to do?"

"Not very." Weiss responded truthfully.

Obaz nodded. "How would you describe what you just did?"

She wasn't quite sure of where he was going with this. "You just told me to raise my arm. That's all I did, right?"

Obaz smirked; it seemed that was the answer he had expected. He copied the movement her arm made; back and forth from the way she had it idle near her tea in her lap and the outstretched position. "What you did was lift your bicep up, move your forearm down, relax your wrist, uncurl each finger and thumb from being slightly clenched and ensure your arm would remain in that final position by resisting gravitational forces... and that is summarizing. I could include specific muscle movements, but for now let us continue."

He showed her this exactly, step-by-step. "Lastly, you thoughtlessly chose to start and finish each movement within a close time frame, not necessarily simultaneously, to perform the given task as quickly as possible." Obaz now showed her, slowly, the difference between the two.

"This is the difference between fractional and fluid motion. You could say all living things have a talent to manipulate their own bodies most efficiently... Aura, on the other hand, is a force we only grasp vaguely. It helps us to heal, project a defensive layer over ourselves, sense danger –quite different from electrical and chemical impulses. The only real commonality between the two is that we use our aura thoughtlessly as well, unless we have control over our individual semblance, and that is only one instance where control is so stringent." Weiss nodded. Obaz was a fairly good teacher, come to think of it; she even figured Ruby might doodle a slanderous picture of him were she here to half-listen.

"Most siphon works were made intentionally simple, as one's aura was only meant to be a power source; the user would channel their aura into where it needed to go, and the machine did the rest. The Marreon is similar, but on a much more complex scale."

"Simple, but complex? Explain." He was keeping her involved with such statements. Obaz went on;

"Aura is channeled through the Marreon via pathways leading through and/or ending with valves. These valves activate specific functions; valve 48 does this." Obaz' left index finger twitched at the end of it.

"Valves 46, 47 and 48 simultaneously." His whole index finger instantly curled.

"Valves 46, 47 and 48 in order, forward and back." Obaz' finger slowly curled and uncurled, almost like it was beckoning her. She kept her focus.

"If I want to move my fingers, but not my hand or my arm, the aura flows through bypass routes to the desired valves; you could say that the Marreon is made up of hundreds of tiny siphon works. Sounds simple... however, as aura is an indefinitely acting force under most circumstances, and my semblance is hindered by the Marreon, how am I so precisely controlling this colony of individual destinations for my aura?" Obaz paused, wondering if she may actually have a guess.

She thought on it for a while, but was stumped, as he was probably making sure of considering the way he had explained until now. "How am I supposed to know? You just gave me every reason why it should be impossible."

Obaz had his right hand up to his chin, nodding. "You are correct, I did indeed... Let us explore this from the base of the concept. How does one usually activate, respond to, and maintain use of aura? Is it something one wills with their mind?"

Weiss shook her head. "No, not really. It's sort of primal most of the time... like feeling. You _sense_ ill intent through aura. In times of crisis, you _feel _the blow you took become softened by your aura."

"Right; aura is most acutely related to emotions rather than thought. The two can be entangled, but for the most part aura is purely triggered by emotions... and through use of _nostalgia_ as an emotion, I control the flow of aura in the Marreon."

Weiss looked confused. Obaz reiterated; "You know the feeling you get when you look back on better times in your life, like an anniversary? I work the Marreon through use of this feeling as a catalyst, and control the flow of aura through memory of how my flesh and blood arm originally felt when I used it. The valves and paths are as close as I could get to the circulatory systems of a realistic arm... think of it like a conversion of the electrical impulses I mentioned to emotional ones, however these impulses must be triggered by memory; and to remember requires a train of thought dedicated to it. Now consider such a process applied to the mazelike construction of a circulatory system, and factor in the necessity of fluid motion as opposed to fractional."

Weiss had gotten halfway through her tea. She couldn't even fathom how difficult it was; remembering information was one thing, but to recall how it _felt_ to move an arm that was no longer there and apply that to a metallic fraud of one... he did all of this at all times, and given he frequently needed to react to something or deal with the unexpected, it sounded inhuman. She couldn't even remember such an insignificant, indescribable feeling herself –and she was feeling it now as she set her cup back down. It was also very sad; like watching someone tell you that a ghost of their former ligament still worked quite close to the real thing.

"In this way, use of the Marreon requires one to uphold two parallel thought processes; one of reverie and memoriam of signals your body once sent, and one to actively pursue whatever you are doing or thinking in the first place. This in itself is more difficult than it sounds, as splitting one's conscious thoughts and having both carry forward is more advanced than multitasking... Such mental extremes and vivid memory are prerequisites that only I, among perhaps a handful of others, could meet; which is an important hurdle to clear before considering the creation and distribution of more. Having such a thing run on Dust for fuel would require more Dust or some other substance to act as the circulation; this being the more tangible reasoning for use of Dust in the Marreon to be futile."

Weiss could understand that. Some things guzzled Dust power so hard there was hardly a reason to own it; the Marreon would join those ranks if it ever were made capable of Dust compatibility, and no amount of furthering in the design would be able to decrease that enough. There was a noteworthy silence where the two of them simply pondered what had been said.

Eventually, Obaz changed the subject. He said something she had heard many times before; "Actually, might I ask a favor?"

"I'm not giving you money." Her good mood vanished. His story was a sad one, but he was fine now, surely.

"No, nothing of that sort. I would like you to stop Schnee Dust Co. trying to buy Petto Automotive. The attempts at negotiation have become bothersome, and soon I may have to take legal action, as their visits have begun to border harassment."

Weiss nearly dropped her tea when he got through the second sentence. "H-harassment?! You're sure?"

"Yes, I have been there for the exchange twice now. Your employees are quite pushy, and quick to temper when they are refused continually." Obaz paused, and the tiniest of smirks formed. "I hope that you may resolve the issue nicely. If I met your lawyers in court, they would undoubtedly lose."

She was tempted to believe that just from the confidence he showed. "I knew Schnee Dust was interested in Petto Automotive, but going so far..."

Obaz drank some of his tea. "You need not be upset. All major companies have the Achilles' heel of widely-spaced employment networking. The chain of command is simply too long and quality of work is left unsupervised... And there are much worse things than harassment. Embezzlement, forgery, blackmail..."

He trailed off. They sat in silence for a while, and Obaz offered to take her cup when she was finished with it. "Blake is still astray?"

"Yes. We can't hope to really find her after dark, so we stopped for today, but I don't mind joining the search anymore –I think I know how to face her now. What you said to me by the fountain... helped. Thank you." It looked almost painful for her to say it.

"I am glad to have been of assistance." Obaz said, putting away the minor dishes. He turned back to look at her. "Laera is unlikely to return by a time where you would get anything done for your project together. I will make sure she cancels any plans she may have tomorrow night in your favor, but for now I would like to attend my own business."

Weiss got up from his seat, pushing it back toward his desk where he retrieved it thoughtfully. "Of course. Thank you for your time, and the tea."

Obaz opened the door for Weiss once again, and she passed him into the hallway with the first smile he thought he had ever seen on her. She seemed quickly irritated to cover it, possibly even because he had seen the smile to begin with. If memory served, which for Obaz it unwaveringly did, he had likely just made another friend.


	7. Misadventures with a Sleepy Hunter P1

**|This chapter is one of a multi-part crossover project with another OC driven RWBY Fanfiction; **_**The Misadventures of a Sleepy Hunter, written by **_**QuietFever**_**. **_**This was strictly an inspiration that hit me during my wait for the canon series to continue and my writing itch reaching a breaking point, and though I highly suggest you read the aforementioned Fanfiction the bare minimum of information needed to understand has been inserted here during the first chapter. Which is still, honestly, a lot. That speaks volumes right there. I have yet to decide on how many chapters this will be, though I estimate three to four, including this introductory one.**

**I had fun writing fanfiction within a fanfiction, and extend my thanks for the allowed use of QuietFever's little world of most amusing dreams.|**

* * *

><p><strong>Misadventures with a Sleepy Hunter, Pt.1<strong>

Out the shuttle's window was an early horizon, sparkling ocean water, morning cries of seagulls and little else. It was 6:43 am, and team RSOL was being ported off of Beacon grounds to a different country entirely, hardly a scenario Obaz had expected let alone so soon. The trip itself was welcome, but he hoped the stay would be short as everything he so far knew about _Notus _was less than appealing.

The 'Land of the Night Flower' itself was tiny, due east of Vale and not even mentioned on most maps of the world. Only within recent history became worth note; as it went through an overhaul of government system and social structure, having abolished Faunus slavery and gone from a Monarchy to Democracy plus one figurehead. Faunus-Human relations were tense just about everywhere; but here, if someone so much as stepped on a tail or commented on household pets a fair percentage of the populace would be up in either picket signs or dangerous arms, and this heightened scale of racism carried over to their Hunter Academy, Aspire. A team from Beacon had transferred there some time ago, of how long he was uncertain; it was either this year or last. Team KAZE as they were labeled were to be RSOL's partners for the coming mission, it seemed.

Under normal circumstances Beacon would hardly even glance at Notus for a matter such as this, but lacking targets to create missions for the transfer students caused a Grimm attack reported near Aspire to garner interest; much like the Darkmire mission, this was a matter of convenience. KAZE was brought there to show that Humans and Faunus could cooperate far more easily than these people thought possible, even comingle, but this was simple enough to expect of teammates; any four people could be put together and stuck that way over the course of years, and have to settle their differences for better or for worse, so most that witnessed KAZE's phenomenal tolerance of one another could see it as a facade in order to carry out their own needs. At this point, RSOL was offered as assistance to the cause while gaining an opportunity for much-needed work, as well as setting an example of how Beacon trained those of differing teams to act among other Hunters. Hopefully this would set a standard within Aspire, and making Beacon itself look good was just an added bonus.

Obaz had browsed through the records from Beacon on the four Hunters of this team, and it made sense to choose them, as three of the four were Faunus of completely different types while the fourth was a Human who must have gotten along with them just fine. As a human, Obaz' opinion of Faunus was purely indifferent; he saw them as specimens of a race generally as intelligent as his own, with numerous physical capabilities that put Humanity to shame, so he saw no reason to discriminate against them at all; in fact, he considered them generally superior to Humans. His teammates, on the other hand... he had no understanding of their outlooks on Faunus, but considering the topic had never come up believed they must either be indifferent as well or hiding their feelings toward the animalistic humanoids.

"How long do you think we'll be staying in Nocturne?" Sophia wondered aloud. Nocturne was the city where Aspire Academy was located within Notus, and their current destination. Fortunately, where those before them had taken a cruise ship followed by train ride, they had travelled with someone who had already booked such transportation. Beacon had prepared them the airship route.

Regis skimmed through what must have been some kind of pamphlet describing Nocturne or the whole of Notus itself as a tourist attraction, responding without averting his gaze from the sheet. "A handful of days, tops. The Grimm we're supposed to look for could be deep sixed a lot sooner than that, especially considering we aren't even really needed –but we do need to put on a show of how we play nice."

Laera leaned forward to look past Regis to Sophia, who was alongside Obaz in another set of seats. The shuttle itself was one of the smallest Beacon owned, as nothing too large was allowed past the border for being either too noticeable or too intimidating. Notus had opened their borders but it didn't mean they were not suspicious of others.

"Think of it as a little vacation. No classes, plenty of sights to see, delicacies to try. All for free!" Laera's enthusiasm was present for sadly materialistic reasons if that were any indicator. Regis was unusually serious for once by the look of his face as he brooded over the pamphlet before him uncharacteristically.

"Something the matter, Cap?" Laera inquired of her neighbour.

Snapped out of his daze, Regis caught eye contact with her and gave an anxious laugh. "Uh, yeah. For the most part. I'm just a little worried... My family is pretty reputable as Faunus abusers, since my late Uncle." He paused, seeing Laera's love of secrets appear in her eyes despite trying to appear comforting. It forced him to continue; "He had a bunch of families, mostly Rabbit Faunus, as servants that he treated... poorly. More than poorly, more like _abysmally_. If anyone figures out who I am, I'll have Faunus sympathisers burning me at the stake, or these... uh... 'Insurrectionist'? No. 'Insurgent'? Some weird guys trying to recruit me."

The most influential political entities here were five in total; a group humans that wanted Lotus back to the way it was already were one of them, and was surely made up of people such as Regis' aforementioned Uncle. The team knew what they did about the Country's state based solely on some last minute research and hearsay between one another, though they figured Obaz must have a lot more under that hat of his than any of them combined. They just didn't want to relive the history or take the guided tours before they even landed there...

The ocean had given way to sandy beaches for a moment, then a series of plateaus patched with small woodlands for about a half an hour. Structures came into sight, but not before a Dust Crystal so large that it dwarfed Beacon itself by a few times over at least. As the four of them marveled at this first and most impressive of the sights, Obaz blinked a few times. "No wonder their borders were closed; that is the single most dangerous thing I have seen left in plain sight."

His three allies did catch his meaning; what if someone set off the Dust? Sure, the solid form was safer than it was as a powder, but the sheer size of that rock... Obaz borrowed the brochure from Regis' slack hand as the team leader gaped out the window, looking to see what it had to say about the crystal and sighing. "I see... It is much larger than it appears; the main body of the crystal is beneath what we see here."

"You say that like it's supposed to be putting everyone at ease..." Sophia mumbled.

Obaz shifted in his seat, still eyes on the borrowed paper. "If it were the size of which we see it at face value down there, it would take an approximate force of a corresponding dust-depleted HH-32... simply put, it would take a specialized anti-armor explosive fired directly at the crystal, but even that is not hard to accomplish, while other options would be available given that could be acquired. As the estimated size is much larger, the force needed to detonate is greater with the contrast; a fleet of over 20 battleships unleashing their payload to create a reaction, also assuming they have the corresponding element needed within the shells to resonate. An attack of that scale would require almost all of Nocturne's defenses to be lowered at the time. This is all loose speculation, as even the information listed here is flighty as to the state of the belowground portion, but there should be nothing to fear."

If an entire city left something like that in open air, one would naturally assume that it were safe, but there were many accounts that Obaz did not fail to list much the same as this community, whose choices had gone horribly awry and led to their destruction. On this note, the ship landed and the four students departed onto the landing pad, their first actual steps into this foreign territory.

"Good evening, team _Resolve. _Thank you for coming all the way here." The man that awaited them near the pad was an adult Cat Faunus with deep black hair and military-styled clothes, a nice array of medals pinned to the chest. His face was one of understanding and warmth like that of a father, likely something he was given his age. Although they were here to help solve a problem within Aspire Academy in whatever way they could, they were primarily helping another group entirely; FRAME. This group was in charge of the dilemma of severe racism in the first place, as Aspire had the Grimm to keep tabs on. The abbreviation's full meaning was unknown to them, but it was safe to assume what it mostly stood for. The one greeting them here showed no signs of direct connections to a Hunter Academy, so it was also safe to assume he was representing the only other party they had contacted.

Each of RSOL's members shook the man's hand as he offered it, the engines dying down behind them. "Marcus Lyre, head of FRAME. I am pleased to see more help lent to me than I even asked for... Ah! I'm getting ahead of myself. Come this way."

Marcus led them from the strip, walking past a middle-aged man in a nice suit who took up the rear once they themselves passed him by. Obaz stared at him over his shoulder in open distrust until the man assuaged his doubts; "Raymond Frostbite, sir. Mr. Lyre's butler, so to speak." The head he sported above the collar of his suit was not recently shaven nor groomed to the fineness fitting a stereotypical butler, but he let the criticism remain unsaid.

The sun was still just groggily rising away from the horizon, and Marcus led the four from the private airstrip through a nature trail that quickly gave way to suburban landscape. The architecture here was an eye-catching blend of old Victorian and new-age streamlining that must have made the constructors lose their patience more than once, and the streets were paved without need of much in the way of traffic lights, designation lines, or crosswalks; here, foot traffic beat vehicle use out by a longshot, throngs of people pattering through open roads as if the whole thing were one big sidewalk. Attempts by advertising laying claim to either fresh ideas or traditional style came off as merely words due to the overall appearance of Nocturne. The lack of cars, while cleaner and far less noisy, was slightly jarring to Obaz. He was fond of motor vehicles, and if he ever had to live here might start a trend just to be more comfortable.

The walking and gawking lasted close to an hour and a half as they headed northeast, eventually out of town and into one of the woodlands that sparsely decorated the land here. This one in particular must have been used by Aspire or local militia frequently, as remnants of old scars such as claw marks, slashes and bullet ricochets appeared enough not to be coincidence in the earth and bark aplenty. Laera had been asking Marcus many questions about where the best restaurants and places to unwind were around Nocturne when they were taken into a clearing; the grass cut neatly, many trees chopped down and even more strung up as targets, the remains of battles come and gone more prevalent in the scenery. There were four others present here, and their individual attentions save one were quickly brought to the focal point of Marcus having an entourage alongside him. Three Faunus approached them; one boy to the far left lay uncaring in a pile of leaves.

"I thought I might find you four here. How goes your studies?" Marcus began with smalltalk. The smaller girl between the two present, with flowing orange hair and stunning emerald eyes, spoke up;

"Things are going well, Mr. Lyre. Safe to say this is team _Resolve_ from Beacon?" Her demeanor was stiff and agitated, and not from the training she just brought to a halt. The closer she had come to Obaz and his teammates the tenser she had become, and held them all in a gaze most would reserve for facing down a greatly hated enemy. The pointed ears atop her head were perked up, alert more than idle. Her hair splayed down over her shoulders slightly and most behind atop a red denim jacket, an orange top beneath that. Below here, she wore black jeans on the tighter end of the scale but not restraining by appearances. An orange tail swished to one side and settled back to her center every few moments; the more lithe yet untame style suggested her to be a Fox Faunus. He could not see a weapon on her presently, but a pouch or pocket here and there suggested it could have been an assortment of small things or one miniscule object with much potential; he would find out soon enough.

Marcus made quick gestures that showcased the teams to one another as he named off the members; "These are Regis, Sophia, Obaz and Laera of team _Resolve,_ yes. And these are Kitsune, Arden, Zephyr and Elaine of team _Kaze. _The eight of you will be working together closely for the next while, so I thought you may want to get acquainted as soon as possible."

"Sounds reasonable."

The boy now speaking and smiling was the one who had first drawn his attention when in eyeshot, sporting huge brown wings lined with white dots, some manner of Hawk if not another bird of prey in his heritage. His grey hair was wavy likely from consistent wind disturbance, and his wardrobe was primarily green camouflage with an olive shirt beneath a zip-up hood and combat boots. He looked the least ready to attack those he was being introduced to, though wary, yet hid this well in a casually calm and approachable tone. Slung over his back was an impressive looking, bolt-action sniper rifle with a hawk motif true to the holder; wings outstretched at the sides of the barrel and a beak at the end. Said beak looked like it could be some application system, perhaps Dust coatings or poisons.

Watching this fellow speak was the taller female, who had fearful looking claws on her hands and likely her feet beneath her sneakers. She had a shade of dirty blonde that was just a bit brighter than Obaz' own, with sharp facial features and strong physique. He could not say for sure, but he would bet money on a primal feline bloodline, more proud and muscle-bound than a panther... Lioness, most likely. Wearing a grey singlet and black pants one would see on any movie martial artist, once catching him staring this one's lips curled into a snarl his way. Obaz tipped his hat at her and took the hint, though lingered for a moment longer seeing once again no weaponry present. The outfit itself and the girl's level of fitness said she may fight unarmed, as a Faunus it would not be far-fetched.

" –so we have been making good progress. Well, some of us anyway." The Hawk Faunus finished, looking to the one lying elsewhere as the exception from his statement. The boy's hair was unkempt and spiky, with a pair of very thick-lensed glasses obscuring his eyes (Obaz preferred his hat, but the spectacles were certainly a clever touch...). Like the Hawk Faunus, he had a predominant color scheme which was shades of brown; a matching vest and pants with a darker shade of brown on his own jacket, and a white long-sleeved shirt hiding beneath all this. If the statement prior was any indicator, he must have been the slacker of the group and quite possibly the weak link. A Falchion with retractable chain attached to the hilt lie next to him, at the edge of the makeshift leaf bed.

A silence reigned over the area for a time once the two teams decided to size up their meant-to-be friends, and Marcus took this as his cue to make an exit. "You can guide your fellows back to Aspire, I'm sure, and I have my own matters to attend to. I thank you all again for the trouble." The students all humbly accepted his gratitude once more before watching he and his butler vacate the clearing. This brief respite from the ominous quiet clearly hadn't lasted long, and once it appeared no one would speak up and break the ice nor show them to Aspire, Obaz broke away from the group to sit beside a tree.

"No need to talk to us when you don't have to keep up appearances, huh?" Elaine growled more than said once Obaz parked himself away from the other six. Laera tried to wave off the assertion.

"He just... doesn't talk unless asked. Or if he really needs to. Um, it's nice to meet you all, though it might be a bit late to be saying that..." Laera trailed off under the apprehensive glares of three Faunus meeting human strangers.

"Likewise." Kitsune said, though she sounded as if she didn't mean it in the slightest.

"We've hardly said anything yet. Don't we at least get the benefit of the doubt?" Sophia crossed her arms defensively, still sensing the animosity. Zephyr nodded in agreement.

"She has a point, you know."

Elaine scoffed at her avian teammate. "Yeah, sure. She sounds so sincere..."

Regis stepped up to the plate here. "Look, we're here for a reason, and this is really not helping to achieve it. There's more riding on us than just a mission, so could we at least _attempt _to be civil?"

Kitsune glared daggers at him. "Oh, so Faunus can only _attempt _to be civil, is that it?" the suggestion made Elaine show her teeth, and Zephyr sigh in exasperation while rubbing the back of his head.

"That isn't what I meant –"

Kitsune cut him off. "How convenient that an insult just _happened _to come out of your mouth when only addressing Faunus."

"Well, maybe if you weren't –" Regis was cut off again, this time by Obaz from elsewhere in the glade now;

"Regis, stop talking. They do not wish to trust us, and no amount of words will earn that trust in a single day –much less a few minutes. Our actions will speak for us, during the hunt; if they do not want to 'play nice', we should give them the distance they desire from us at present." Elaine and Kitsune, so quick to argue earlier, looked baffled by his two cents on the matter, as it was the first thing he said and mildly respectable toward them. No rebuttal came from the two, but Kitsune's expression soured once he continued to speak;

"I would follow my own instructions, however I find myself compelled to ask if your teammate here is in a trance." Obaz was looking down upon the sleeping Arden, who looked like the morning had been hectic for him by the dirt and grass stains on his clothes. A medium-sized branch had fallen from the tree while everyone was bickering, falling directly on him, and it hadn't stirred him in the slightest.

Kitsune walked over to the unconscious boy and shooed Obaz away like a fly, to which this was not his territory so he did as he was told. She stood over Arden who looked peaceful as could be, and soon bent over him with her hands set on her hips to roar down at him;

"Arden, get UP! The other team is here already! What are you doing just lazing around on the ground like a useless clod!?" She continued to chastise the boy and through the yelling one could hear him groaning as he woke, paying little mind to his team leader and trying to get himself into a position he could stand from. He rolled over without any sort of haste, then twice more in lazy protest of leaving the leaves before Kitsune grimaced. She grabbed his arm to help him onto his feet, more courteous than expected considering she was still giving him an earful.

The expression on the disheveled boy's face remained placid as his head turned to get a good look at each member of RSOL. Finally, he said; "Hello." And with that out of the way attempted to wander off. Kitsune caught him by the shoulders and rotated him back to inclusion among their ranks, though it appeared he had nothing else to say. She ran through their names while pointing at each less than politely, and Arden gave them each a corresponding nod, possibly out of the need to show his leader that he was paying attention.

The chirping of birds and rustling of leaves dominated the area for another long pause. Regis slapped his hands together and rubbed them together in a nervous action that didn't win him any points. "Okay, ah, why did you guys get transferred here? If it were more than one team, I'd say it was to fill in a few gaps, but it sounds to me like they picked you out."

Zephyr smirked, for the first time genuinely. "That would be because of our leader's 'good chemistry' with Arden." This earned him a punch to the shoulder that he laughed through, as well as the inquiring faces of Laera and Regis. The only chemistry they had witnessed between the two was more describable as deafening.

The Hawk looked ready to elaborate, but the atmosphere darkened with Kitsune's threatening presence aimed at him, causing him to drop the subject. Not wanting to let things get quiet again, Sophia continued the conversation; "That's about as bad as us. As much as Beacon glorified our reasons, the real underline is that they had nothing for us to do. Our team is the odd one out of freshmen year, being exchange students."

Sophia's eyes wandered as she stood there awkwardly, the additional statement not drawing any responses as Kitsune started shaking Arden again. Obaz decided to speak once more, saving her any further unease; "If the time has not yet come to approach Aspire, that is fine. If you would like to continue your training, we will either step aside or join you if acceptable. We are to follow your leader's guidance for the time being."

He was right of course, but Kitsune had no desire to talk to them at all, no less babysit. The way he put it was like having a teacher's words repeated to you, and hard to debate, so she gave in. "We were finishing up with unarmed exercises. _Resolve _is free to take part."

This had fortunately given them all purpose as well as activity that took their eyes off one another, and soon it felt just like any other training session in school; all six of them honing their skills. Arden was honing his bed fixing prowess if that were any sort of skill as Obaz sat with his hands meshed together, choosing the former of his two options brought up himself. His partners stifled all signs of amusement as the Faunus of team KAZE all snuck sideways glances at him, not slothful but not participating, not discriminatory but not exactly forthcoming. Getting a read on Obaz was as hard for them as it was anyone else, a true equalizer if there ever were one.

This was already looking to be a long visit to Nocturne.


	8. Misadventures with a Sleepy Hunter P2

**Misadventures with a Sleepy Hunter, Pt.2**

The training area they met team _Kaze _in had turned out to be a personalized one owned by the Lyre family, though Obaz suspected that ownership were only recently acquired in order to dote on their favored ex-Beacon Hunters. Because of this, it had come with mild facilities for washing up and changing clothes. With _Resolve _wearing the prestigious Beacon attire and their guides switched into monochromatic Aspire uniforms, the eight of them walked to an airship landing that picked them up and took them a ways further out of town to the location of the Academy. Zephyr looked less than content with the Airship, perhaps feeling cramped within something that flew for him rather than flying about himself.

As stated, the uniforms for the many students around them at the stop were primarily black and white; blazers trimmed black and either a skirt or a set of pants much the same. Something about the color scheme bothered Obaz, reminding him of the individual they apprehended on the Darkmire mission and his robes of such alternating tones. As they arrived on site, his teammates were not prepared for the far more imposing appearance to this Academy compared to Beacon; it may have been smaller, but the grey scale continued with dull stone and heavy steel until one caught sight of the red and gold centerpiece of a building on the school's grounds. This would take quite some time, as it turned out Aspire was located atop a small mountain that was almost wholly cleared off at the tip for the walls on all sides of the compound to be flanked by the remains of the apex, sharp and upright to be a natural second barrier. A flight of stairs hewn into the angled face of the mountain led to the great heights that these people went just to learn. Obaz was tempted to call it; "A Spire" as to him it was more physically upright than it was morally as of now...

Obaz saw that there were many platforms dug into the sides of the mountain either way from the stairs, possibly dugouts for shooters to take position, which also suggested the inside of it had a number of tunnels and accessways. Zephyr chatted absently about what the school grounds had been reformed from, but Obaz developed a serious frown upon hearing about a shielding system called; 'the Aegis', that protected the Academy from all sides. The field emitted by this device disabled all non-permitted electronics including autopiloting software, as well as pushing any Grimm that got close with some sort of painful jolt like a taser.

Kitsune had been about to add something or give them some 'friendly advice', but Obaz spoke before she could begin; "I see why this place encourages racist enthusiasm, and that is not impossible to dissuade. However, this Aegis system in place here is a thing to fear for such cause."

Whatever thought Kitsune was having vanished, and she turned to look at Obaz. This caused the party to stop ascending the stairs, in turn making Arden groan in gratitude before taking a seat on the nearest step. "How do you figure that? A shield is hardly going to affect people's opinions of one another."

Regis, Laera and Sophia all groaned now, in abjectness rather than bliss as they all took a seat themselves. The three Faunus looked confused until Obaz began; "Aspire Academy has only lasted as long as it has, one might say, because of the authority of an established caste based pseudo-system shared among educational facilities. Either race can rise through because it is based on time; a freshman would be at the bottom, a fourth year at the top. Experience as a Hunter is accumulable by any person, Faunus or Human, and this forces a status quo of respect between them. However, the concept of a Hunter, location of this building and the defenses here make the system fickle."

"Hypothetically speaking, if any fair number of normal people were accepted into the grounds, it would invite disorder; Hunters are obligated to protect the public, so Humans or Faunus who were not Hunters within those walls could do as they pleased to Huntsmen or Huntresses they despised, while expecting these same victims of prejudice to save them from harm. When they did not, or worse brought this harm themselves, it would be a different situation from racism between equals; it would be a break of moral code, Huntsman dignity, and national law. The consequences would be dire... Now think to yourself; what populace resides nearby, that would flock en masse to a force field that repels Grimm in the event of a Grimm attack?"

"Oh god." Zephyr said mildly, staring out at Nocturne. The capital city would undoubtedly suffer a crisis one day, whether it be Grimm attack or something else, and come running to Aspire Academy.

"That wouldn't happen." Kitsune claimed. "Aspire is too small for much of the people from Nocturne to run, and the faculty would ensure any such people wouldn't mistreat us."

Obaz already had a rebuttal planned. On a side thought, he figured her name must have been one of traditional use among Fox Faunus to instill a preordainment of racial pride. There was little other reason he could think of naming a fox something as typecasted as Kitsune. "Just so; the limitation to Aspire's acceptance of people from Nocturne could result in that, however it is far more likely that the safety of Aspire would only be lent to those of higher social standing such as politicians and the rich, who in turn may intimidate lesser faculty members and possess further bigotry due to their position. They would get away with more, despite less of them being present, causing the same outcome. The Teachers may be of stronger character than I give them credit for, but there is still a likelihood that even then they would fail in such a scenario."

Obaz and Kitsune stared at one another for a moment. Kitsune seemed angry, possibly because he was being so accusational of people in general; he constantly held up Humans and Faunus side-by-side. He was staring back simply because she was engaged with him in conversation, and once she had nothing else to add he broke this and continued the climb. Her team members seemed baffled by the fact that Kitsune's aura, swirling like an ominous energy of pure malice about her, didn't seem to faze Obaz at all. Once he passed, she was equally confounded, likely not having met anyone without a reaction to the display whatsoever.

"I doubt I will ever say this again, but I'm suddenly glad the human our team got stuck with was Arden." Elaine commented. Zephyr chuckled, trying to put Obaz' prophecy of sorts out of mind while attempting to help their only human member to finish the climb. Arden's dead weight refused to comply with him, and the boy only righted himself when Zephyr threatened to let him go to tumble down the several hundred stone steps they had already ascended. Elaine went on about the member of _Resolve _now ahead of them, thinking aloud more than sharing;

"Arden's lazy, but at least he's not so pessimistic. I would have knocked him out a few times just for being so depressing."

Sophia adjusted the position of her duffel bag as well as Matenlock on her back, looking at Elaine. "Obaz may be all doom and gloom, but he's not trying to be. Whether it's happy or sad, it's just his opinion he's giving you."

At the top of the stairs at last, they saw into the courtyard; mostly pure white marble for walkways and patios, with a series of hedges and statues shaped into the reliefs of Huntsmen and Huntresses of moderate renown. Obaz could name them all, but chose not to, having made a bad impression the last time he said something offhand. Straight ahead was the enormous, three-story, red-and-gold building that was clearly added later on, as the two droll buildings to the left and right paled in comparison. They were each smaller, one black and one white, a series of smaller buildings and two fields scattered mostly past or behind these. An emblem set upon flags and tiles all over was a pair of hands cradling a star, what must have been the school's symbolism.

From here, team _Kaze_ led their old schoolmates into the main building, past an annoying number of the flags heralding Aspire, around a few corners and up a floor to a theater. Regis questioned the school's need for a theater since acting was far from a Huntsman skill, and Obaz promptly corrected him; this was an Audience Chamber, made comfortable via the stylized Victorian trending in Notus. Eight seats in the front row had been reserved for them, which would have been unusual if not for the fact that the seats here were labelled, and the four next to _Kaze_ had been saved for the other Beacon students. If anyone were to speak, they would request the person on stage and then use the microphone in their scroll to amplify their voice.

A taller woman stood upon the podium, recognized by Elaine as the headmaster, Eurydice. She had long white hair down to her waistline, crimson eyes, and the commanding air of one at the top of the chain around here. Her skirt was matching to her eyes, separating a blouse of white equal to her hair by a black sash, the end of which hung loosely off the waist and ended tied into itself with a brooch bearing the Academy emblem. Below all of this was a pair of laced-up boots with tall heels. The remaining team and guest team to arrive sat down, and soon Eurydice began briefing them on what was going on; she was offering the mission to six teams besides _Resolve_ and_ Kaze, _suggesting the Grimm were more numerous than they had suspected or more dangerous breeds had been added to the mix.

"13 kilometers northeast of here is Mintish Meadow." Eurydice had a pointer that extended to great lengths for identifying the areas she needed to on the map displayed on a huge canvas behind her. Obaz was already familiar with the geography of the area, and wished she would tell them about possible weather conditions. Partly because he would like to know, but also because he thought she would make a good weather lady. This unfortunately did not come to pass.

"The Grimm there have been roaming further outside their territory, destroying more of the landscape than usual, as if sending a message. They are mostly Balmung and Ursa breeds, three Alphas so far identified among the packs. As Mintish Meadow is an important trade route and produce location, the objective will be to eliminate all of the Grimm possible while minimizing background damage." That sounded difficult considering their opponents were destructive in nature, even when they missed. Obaz was checking the weather on his scroll, but soon raised his hand.

Eurydice looked at him, not having to think of which member he was of the guest team; Ozpin had told her he would be the first if not only one to raise questions. "Mr. Petto, your thoughts?"

"Is there any particular strategy already planned, or are you suggesting we simply seek and destroy?"

"The latter. If there is any planning to be done, it will be short-term, in the field."

Obaz frowned at her. "I do not think that wise."

Eurydice looked at him incredulously, and the other students present all stared at who they figured was someone with a death wish. He continued on; "The first thing all of these teams will do upon entering will be to split up. More targets makes for more damage to the surrounding area, especially if we are to combat them there. Given this is a test of our tentativeness, I apologize for speaking out of turn, but if not I would prefer our students follow my design."

Eurydice was containing any feeling besides indifference that she might have had rather well. "_Your_ design?"

"Yes. I already know the area, species expected and possible to intervene, and general conditions. If –" Kitsune raised her hand, Obaz stopping to look at her.

"I apologize for interrupting, but I agree as far as planning ahead. However, the strategy should be a collaborative effort." She shot a look at Obaz and he scowled a bit further.

Eurydice paused to contemplate their words, and eventually she nodded. "Very well. I will leave the operation's details to the two of you." By the look on Kitsune's face, she hadn't expected 'collaborative effort' to define into 'work with Obaz in specific'. The turn of events gave her a less than pleased expression, and Eurydice walked off the stage of sorts while being doubly sure of hiding her overwhelming amusement. _'Such eager young Hunters... I can see why Marcus has his hands full.'_

* * *

><p>Kitsune was getting introduced to many things she had never experienced before. A Human who ignored her aura of evil incarnate. A Human who held Humans and Faunus in blatantly equal regards that were both poor. A Human that could not be viewed as a chauvinist, or a sympathist. A Human whose statements had nary a single crack in their honesty... and it was making her want to scream.<p>

She hated Obaz because she hated hating him. She couldn't hate him for the usual reasons, but instead all of the things she would not agree with yet couldn't refute. In comparison, it felt that her dislike of him was not justified enough, like she was grasping at straws. Even now as they discussed strategy, her friends had vouched for her prowess in this field but he poked holes in all of her suggestions, and not ever having had a hole poker in her planning stages this was yet another experience she had never before faced, irritating her more and pushing the cycle around again.

"Four teams go in from the south end, driving the ones we find west –"

"Corralling them west would take us through the denser brush, their more comfortable territory, and the other teams could not see us coming from the Meadow's edge." Obaz slid a knife into her newest ploy before she finished a sentence. The others hadn't fallen quite that fast...

She was just about fed up with this guy, and her aura danced menacingly. Obaz stood undaunted, though since the first two of now five times she had responded this way the other teams and their closer allies had retreated to what they deemed a safe distance. That distance grew by a few inches with each idea shot down.

"All right, then –try this. Four teams dive in from the south, split into two teams each and span east and west, climbing north and sweeping up the Grimm. Then we push them down, back the way we came in." She eyed him, awaiting his reply.

Obaz nodded. "Feasible. Make it two teams, ours and yours." He began marking blue X's and drawing lines over her huge array of red ones. "Shallow the distance we move to the sides, attract rather than force. They will chase us out far more easily than we could shove them into the trap, and that requires fewer possible dawdlers."

Kitsune looked at him like he was nuts, and went to argue before catching him subtly gesturing over his shoulder. The other teams from Aspire all looked at the two of them with a great deal of jealousy and abhorrence, and this didn't seem to be lessening any time soon. So what? Did he want to piss them off even more? "The ambush doesn't need that many hands, Obaz."

"I realize. Your classmates are a liability, and I do not want them to undermine this part of the plan." All twenty-four of the students to be working with their teams stood up and started protesting in outrage;

"_What the hell is that?!"_

"_You can't just walk in here like you own the place!"_

" _Who do you think you are?!_"

Other such proclamations and denials rose up in a cacophony that resounded well in the Audience Chamber, and Obaz turned on his scroll to take advantage of the microphone; "All of you, look at the map."

They slowly calmed down, mainly because they had expected him to start spouting some egocentric babble when he istead pointed them at a map. Gazing at the canvas from when Eurydice was briefing them, he pointed at the Meadow and asked; "Two of you... You, and you. Tell me the easiest way through that Meadow coming from the south."

He picked randomly, and they both spoke, but both of them had differing ideas. They started to bicker before Obaz ordered them to knock it off, and when they persisted Kitsune gave them incentive to stop with a death glare. Obaz went on; "Kitsune and I will not have the time or patience to tell you the exact routes we want your teams to take, and cannot afford for any of you to split up lest you run into greater numbers than you can escape from or fight through. Your familiarity with the area and standoffishness make you a liability, as I said; some of you may be more compliant, but not your partners... Tell me I am wrong."

The many other students spoke among their respective teams for a moment, but soon they fell into a regretful silence. After a time, Obaz turned to Kitsune. "I want our teams to split into twos, preferably one of us each with one of yours. We need to draw attention, but not before we start the reversal; our two teams will then rendezvous here and proceed to attract the Grimm. Anything to add?"

Kitsune looked down at the circle he set near the northmost end of the Meadow, and moved it slightly just to spite him, but otherwise had no problems; the arrangement was fine, though some of the points he made were for what she sensed as reasons he had not fully explained. The mission would begin tomorrow, so for today they copied the map's final product and instructions to each of the teams before being allowed to disperse. The current- and ex-Beacon students were all that were left in the Audience Chamber, Arden passed out in what looked like a comfortable pair of the flip-down theater chairs; he had somehow removed the armrest in between them.

"You have an uncommon wealth of strategic insight. Color me impressed." Obaz said to the Fox Faunus he had been driving up a wall for the past forty-five minutes. She was close to giving him a series of agitated responses, but after seeing he was once again genuine took the compliment. Elaine grimaced, and once she started speaking they knew why;

"Who's pairing up? You said you wanted us to join an opposite team member... Ugh." She seemed less than content with tomorrow's prospects.

Sophia stretched her arms out a little bit, having been seated in wait of Obaz meeting an ultimatum with someone. Elaine's personality when it came to them had been gotten used to, it seemed. "I'm not entirely sure why that is, actually. I mean, you stuck all the other students to the ambush squad, so it's not like they can see the harmony." Elaine scoffed at the way she worded that.

"The familiarity they have with the Meadow will lead them to argue, but we have none. Following the members of _Kaze_, who have been there before, would be common sense for us at that point. There is also a high chance that we will be recorded. Lastly, even if they cannot see us, I have made clear that we, the famed Beacon students, do not want _any _of them due to their lack of unity. It may not be much, but it is a start." Regis nodded his understanding, and Elaine begrudgingly agreed. Kitsune was... smirking?

"As the primary leader of this operation, I will choose who will be working together until the rendezvous. Obaz, you are with Arden." Zephyr pointed and laughed while Elaine's attitude perked right up; apparently, giving him the short end of the stick made everything okay. As the other six began discussing while automatically sticking Zephyr to Regis, Obaz claimed a seat to the right of Arden.

Arden was asleep, as per usual.

Obaz waited.

* * *

><p>Arden awoke feeling refreshed, and reached into his pocket to check his watch. He was startled when he heard someone speak from next to him;<p>

"It is 10:37 pm. 33 seconds in, and counting."

The wordy fellow from _Resolve_ was sitting next to him. Checking his watch anyway, the guy was right and probably down to the second too, though it took him a moment to adjust since the lights in the Audience Chamber were out. Sitting up, Arden looked over to who he now remembered was Obaz. Strange name for a strange guy, though he may not have been one to judge.

"How long?"

"How long for what?" Obaz requested.

"Have you been." Arden mumbled.

"The meeting ended at 2:52 pm."

Arden's brow arched at that. "You stayed seven hours?"

Obaz shrugged. "I have no other resources I have not exhausted yet. The Library here only has three years of collectivity; nothing worth note."

"Did you sleep?" Maybe Arden could only speak up to five or so words at a time. Maybe he was saving his words like one of those monks that travel abroad, that almost-vow of silence.

Regardless, Obaz answered. "No."

Arden stared blankly at him, but after a time tilted his head quizzically. He apparently couldn't fathom someone sitting in the same position for that long, just waiting, and not going to sleep. After some quiet time, Obaz got to the point. "During the mission tomorrow, your team and mine will be luring the Grimm out of the Meadow. You and I are partners for the first stage."

This took a nod out of Arden, and then he turned back to fall asleep. Obaz looked down at him for a moment, and then got up and made for the door. He hadn't met or even heard of anyone with quite that much of a drive to sleep. Strange habit for a strange guy, though he may not be one to judge.


	9. Misadventures with a Sleepy Hunter P3

**Misadventures with a Sleepy Hunter, Pt.3**

The next morning was different from expected. Obaz had assumed an early rise would ensue followed by either courses with a few extra slots open, or last-minute preparations and checklists. Turns out the mission was the only thing they were there for, so they had been supplied with lodging and left to sleep into midday. Arden was surely jealous if he knew.

Laera was up before all of them, other than Obaz, who hadn't slept at all. A few minutes after noon had rolled around, there was a knock at the door followed by Zephyr's voice permeating through it; "Hey guys, I'm supposed to tell you that you're free to use the cafeteria like any other student once you're up and at 'em. There's a map of the Academy in the nightstand."

The door opened hardly a second after Zephyr finished, with Obaz stepping into the hall and past him. Laera was next in line; Sophia and Regis would need to get themselves together first. Having intended to meet his own team there anyways, Zephyr fell in step behind the two Beacon students. Laera let her pace slow a bit to land beside Zephyr, planning to talk. "I'm supposed to partner up with Kitsune today. Is there... anything I should know?" She paused after this. "I'm not trying to sound biased. She just seems to scare the hell out of you."

Zephyr couldn't contain the laughter that her comment brought on. "That's because she _does._ If you were on our team, you'd be scared twice as much. Just try not to step on her toes, and reach the meeting point ASAP. Then, _maybe_, she won't bite your head off." His advice made her look less relieved than anxious.

Laera's attention was drawn to Obaz ahead of her once they reached the cafeteria, as upon seeing a small washboard sign reading 'pancake day' on the door he had doubled his speed and become what could have possibly been excited. The cafeteria was quite large even for an Academy, the waiting line long but the pancakes seemingly plentiful. He shifted on his feet rather than stand ramrod straight in line until he could plate some of the treats and make his way to an empty table. Surely his own team would find this seat alongside him, and _Kaze _might also. He cut each piece of the fluffy food with contentment, though he struggled not to show it even as he enjoyed himself.

Sure enough, Laera found him, and Zephyr coaxed his own team to join them both. Sophia and Regis would come shortly, no doubt. Kitsune had a much more tender nature when interacting with her Faunus allies, though she was pointedly ignoring them it could be said this was making her presence more pleasant to them anyway. Elaine seemed easy enough to please so long as her leader was in a good mood, and this kept either of the girls from picking on the males, so Zephyr could be happy and Arden could rest. Well, it was more like he laid his upper half on the table while lazily repeating the motion of eating in bits and pieces. It was an unusual team synergy, but one that couldn't easily be viewed as fake or forced from appearances.

This internal analysis had been made without factoring in every other set of eyes shooting glances their way, the owners of which somehow seeming to either believe the opposite or hate the sincerity of it. Obaz chewed more syrup-drowned pancake while seeing if any single person away from their table held no gaze of condemning, and found two among the dozens otherwise. Communities such as this irked him the most, as for some reason when a minority among them were prosecuted by their peers not one of the judging party would ever step forward and say it openly. This train of thought led Obaz to put down his fork, look at Kitsune, and ask; "Do you always eat in here?"

She looked at him quizzically. "Of course."

"And somehow, you never tire of being surrounded by angry cowards?" The statement wasn't exactly contained to a whisper. Obaz, as always, used a level tone that enough of the students nearer to them heard. Soon mumbling spread throughout the room, likely skewed and amplified in meaning with each telling to the next person, until someone a fair distance away stood and approached the six of them.

The Huntsman in question was a human with shaggy brown hair and blue eyes, wearing the black and white uniform, naturally. By appearances he was either a freshman himself or second year. "So yesterday's knock on Aspire wasn't enough for you, huh? You're just gonna walk in here and insult us openly?"

Elaine looked like she intended to stand and force the smaller boy to back down, but Obaz held up a hand to those he ate with; he was being confronted, and was confident he could use the opportunity to make a point... and Obaz loved to make a point. As the individual was behind him, Obaz twisted in his seat to look at him. "I read over this Academy's guidelines. If there were some rule stating all opinions must be kept to oneself, I did not see it. All of you may keep your voices down when slighting us at length, but I will not when doing the same."

Obaz was many things, but to the student body of Aspire Academy, he was an outsider so unbelievably full of himself that they weren't quite sure what limb to break first. The boy he was talking to looked like the vein near his temple might burst any minute, and as he reached out to possibly grab his collar or some other aggressive move, Obaz instead standing as he brushed it aside, facing him fully. "I would normally pay no mind to any of you here, but I have been told that the state of affairs among you has become a problem in need of correction. So, as I fear you will not understand this from words alone, let me give you a demonstration."

Obaz began to circle around the student slowly, not in any threatening manner, more like one of inspection. "Hypothetical scenario. You are a Huntsman. I am a Grimm." The boy, along with some others, laughed aloud from this. Once Obaz had come around again, some glimpse of his eyes or something else must have startled him, because the boy stopped abruptly. Obaz continued; "I have knocked your weapon aside, surely you have seen it happen or had it happen to you before. Your armor is lacking. Your stature physically and aurically is high, but you have not met a species such as mine before. What do you do?"

Smirking, the boy started with an obvious answer; "I distract the creature, or see if I can outrun it, so I can retrieve my weap –" Obaz punched his shoulder out of nowhere, spinning him around, and grabbed both of his arms at the wrists from behind. He pinned these to his lower back with his left, and clutched the back of his neck with his right, slamming his upper body against the table on a clear space. _Kaze _stood with intent to break them up, as they couldn't let a Beacon guest simply bully one of theirs, but Obaz looked up at them with a slight nod affirming his intentions. They still looked on edge, and soon the teammates of Obaz' current victim were making their way over.

"You are alone, as far as you know. Your teammates held at bay, or otherwise preoccupied." He kicked one away from him without really looking. The other two held back, not wanting to bruise their partner's ego or get him hurt in this situation. A teacher by the entrance looked as if they wanted to get involved, but Sophia and Regis were talking to him, probably stalling him or trying to substantiate their ally's actions.

Obaz' grip tightened on the back of the boy's neck, making him tense. He struggled, but Obaz' hold was a solid one, and he already had his legs tangled in the leg of the table somehow. "I am a monster without any concept of mercy. Any moment I will snap your neck and take your life. What do you do?"

"I... um... uh..." He was squirming more than struggling now, and Obaz clenched harder.

"_Do not think. Speak_. _What is your only recourse?"_

The student pinned down called out in a panic now, whether he was answering the question or acting on impulse none could say but him; "HELP! Somebody get this nutcase off me!"

Obaz let him go, twisting him so he stumbled away from the table. The boy caught himself and turned to stare defiantly, only to see Obaz' arms crossed as he was nodding.

"That is exactly what you would do. What all of you would do; beg and plead for someone to save you, hope in the face of death to be spared. You do not care who, whether they be Human or Faunus. You simply want to live, to see another day. However, when the time finally comes, you will likely have to ask someone victim to your petty chauvinism, and watch in horror as your prayers fall on deaf ears. Dreams unrealized... pain unimaginable... duty unfulfilled. You will be forgotten, and have none to blame but yourself. Is that worth a hate as unfounded as one based on someone's genes?"

A Faunus of some feline type was attempting to suppress her amusement at the Humans that were less than pleased about Obaz' lecture, and was only able to when he approached her, causing that amusement to become a stark contrast. "I have a very similar demonstration and underlying point for you and your kind, if you're interested." She politely refused and shrank away from his gaze.

The eyes on him had lessened in anger, but that shot back up once he finished his speech; "I do not like explaining rationality to those with none, so let me summarize this in a way you all will understand; _just about all of you are digging your own graves, and that makes the majority of you idiots._This is not a career where you can afford to bicker about histories or blood among yourselves, and you will undeniably disgrace Huntsmanship and die, unless you all smarten the hell up."

The teacher finally broke from Obaz' teammates, but had to quell the uprising of Aspire's students by standing between them all and Obaz. Moving with his now empty plate, Obaz collected a few more pancakes and left the cafeteria, showing no further desire to even look at the students so appalled. The noise having become too much for Arden, he followed suit, and this caused their other members to slowly get their meals and filter out of the place themselves even as their schoolmates finally cooled off.

Once they were all out of earshot, Elaine barked a laugh she had been containing for a while. "I have never seen someone give an entire school a kick in the ass! Is he out of his freaking mind?!"

Sophia, now a tag-along, ate as she walked. She made a motion saying she wanted to respond, but could not with her mouth full, so waved to Laera. "He, ah... He makes sure people know what he thinks is wrong. Always. It's inescapable, and blunt, and usually without any amount of provoking. I just never thought he would have the same thought on several hundred people at the same time."

The blonde was nodding at the other girl's explanation of it, returning to the platter at hand. Elaine was now having the same problem Kitsune was; she wanted to detest the guy since it was clear he didn't exactly like Faunus, but rather viewed them so equal that his was a poor opinion yet somehow fair. It seemed impossible for a Human not to like Faunus and still be right, but Obaz owned that unmistakably. The big picture, to him, was that the racial differences abound here weren't even something to question but rather to surpass for the sake of something greater; like being a Hunter. As much as she didn't want to, she had to respect that.

Kitsune, on the other hand, had started early and was now a step ahead of Elaine; a display like that put him into perspective, and the only way to slice it was that Obaz only cared for individuals. He would not look at a community as a whole unless they were unanimous in something; it just so happens that here, they were united in being stupid, whether they were one race or another. It was almost ironic; she had been taken away from Beacon just before she might have met the one Human –other than Arden later –who could actually shake her lack of faith in humanity. Unless he was a robot. His teammates were adamant that this wasn't the case, but she had her doubts.

* * *

><p>The time had come to board an airship destined for the plains just shy of Mintish Meadow, and the pattern continued as teams <em>Resolve <em>and _Kaze _were reserved seats near the front, further from the rest. Arden sat next to Obaz, which was unexpected, while awaiting the rest of their respective teams other than Regis who was glued to the seat furthest back of theirs. Arden's eyes were hidden behind his glasses again, but he appeared more aware than usual. "Warn me next time..."

The boy's sleep or even drowsiness leading up to it had probably been interrupted by him and his little show during lunch, and for that Obaz apologized. That seemed to befuddle Arden. "... No one else says sorry for that." So his sentences could get bigger. Interesting.

"When one decides on an action to take, it is because they believe they need to go through with it. You sleep frequently, so it suggests you need plenty of rest. While that is unusual for a demanding job such as being a Huntsman, I have no real experience with sleep. So I am not fit to judge, and therefore accept that your slumber is necessary." Arden became even more confused.

"How can you 'have no real experience with sleep'?"

"I do not sleep. I never have, that I recall. And I recall things quite well." Arden looked as if he just saw a fish sprout legs and start dancing, though this utter bewilderment was hard to gauge so well with his glasses on. Apparently, the idea of someone who doesn't sleep and worse yet never has was either foreign to him or he never believed it. Obaz decided to outline the details in case of the latter;

"A blank state of mind I find impossible to grasp. Exhaustion, both physical and mental, does not trigger any sort of unconsciousness within me. I have been knocked unconscious before, but any feeling of recovery or refreshment is absent and the time this lasts is short. I have never dreamt that I know of. I close my eyes and rest for a time each day, but retain the awareness of a wakeful state. From what I have been told about it, I do not blame you for giving in to such an urge." Arden was facing him, of that he could be sure, but nothing else could really be said with certainty. With a shudder, it was shown that he must have been trying to picture what that must be like, finding the very thought chilling.

When the other members of their groups arrived, the seating arrangement was pre-mixed with Arden and Obaz 'screwing things up' as Kitsune so eloquently put it. It was decided at that point that they may as well go with their respective pairing choices for the early mission, and the awkwardness persisted for most of the ride. Arden slept, Obaz had become inanimate, Regis and Zephyr chatted without any real topic... The girls simply tried to find ways to pass the time without having to look at, hear from, or breathe the same air as their neighbours, which led to many moments of soft spoken apologies, shifting, nudging by accident, and once a spilled drink on Sophia. Regis seemed particularly taken by that one.

Mintish Meadow had been described by Eurydice as a trade route as well as produce location, which it was; by name alone, one would suspect it were home to many Mint-family herbs growing unchecked. This was true, and there was also a type of mint leaf found only in that meadow; _Lapyradis Mentha, _or the Lapis Mint. It was considered by many to be a worldwide delicacy, or so Obaz had said after the briefing yesterday. Due to this, the meadow was often traveled through by varying merchants to pick up the expensive herbs along the way, and keep them fresh until hitting Nocturne to 'turne' over a good price. This pun had earned Regis a cuff to the head.

Obaz had also gone on to mention the Grimm; though Ursa were common enough, _Balmung _were native to Notus almost exclusively, though similar breeds could be found elsewhere; Balmung were lithe, heavily-armored reptilian creatures, standing roughly 5 feet high on all fours and 8-9 when bipedal. They were nicknamed _Blade Jackets, _as their hides were made of thick scales of a most impressive sharpness, and almost every last one stood on end to an impressive three-inch sword jutting off the body, exception being those on the underbelly. A mixture of white, black and a sickly yellow in color, the beasts had tails of great flexibility armed with a set of three prongs that faced left and right of the tip, made for hacking and crashing through trees and enemies. Two rows of teeth within their mouths, and two foot-long horns standing on a slight angle at the forehead. Their underside was often mistaken as a weakness, but because the scales lay flat there it was actually more durable than the rest of its hide; the areas to aim for were primarily the center of the collarbone and the armpits, as the scales were thinnest here to allow a high range of movement for the upper torso, as well as allow the creature's neck to crane at wide angles for surveying the terrain. Balmung moved fast and tore through flesh with powerful claws, most notably a raptor-esque dewclaw on the back feet, and maintained a drastic detection range for their prey using sight, hearing, or smell. They chose not to question Obaz as he finished by saying he was eager to meet one.

If the sound of the ship's engines weren't audible, Zephyr was positive that the sounds of the other six teams grinding their teeth in pure loathing of Obaz at the front would sound comparable to an avalanche. He hadn't much of an opinion himself on Obaz up until earlier that day, but now merely considered him the Human with balls made of titanium. He was no Arden when it came to arguing Humanity's case as capable of kindness, but he couldn't be much of a hindrance to that cause if his grandiose lesson had been any example. At this prompting, Regis had begun relating to him a story from their initiation about said member's 'cold-heartedness', and around the part of the tale where Laera had been injured by a Nevermore feather Sophia had rounded on him. By the look on his face she nearly cast the soul from his body with the glance she threw, and he shut his yap immediately. Afterward, it took a few minutes more before they were saved any further discomfort, arriving at the drop point.

All of the students aboard the transport filed out, secured the area, stretched, and got to work. At nine different points of the Meadow's edge, the six ambush teams prepared stationary defenses such as barricade spikes, pitfalls, and tripwires. The four sets of two, each made up of one attendee of Beacon and one that once had, all took their first steps into Mintish Meadow; their role, acting as bait...


	10. Misadventures with a Sleepy Hunter P4

**Misadventures with a Sleepy Hunter, Pt.4**

Silent, stealthy steps. Laera had to consciously try to conceal herself and the sounds she may make, but Kitsune looked as if any old stroll in the park would be taken the same way as she did now. She was at home in this terrain, graceful looking in her confidence. Laera felt like a clumsy wildlife photographer trying to blend in.

In Kitsune's eyes, she was a step or two above that; sure, she was struggling, but the Fox had come to expect the human girl to in comparison to herself. However, Laera was surprisingly not slowing her down. Finding their neck of the woods quiet to her heightened senses, Kitsune felt it safe to speak; "So your semblance is the use of glyphs? Which kinds are you good with?" She had judged from the dust compartments on her Basilard, which were integrated with the weapon in a way that suggested no other methods of using them.

Laera smiled at the girl despite her not looking back to talk, glad the tension between them seemed less. "Yeah, I use physical augmenting and barriers mostly. I could do some earth elemental, but I'm not confident in those just yet." She paused, then hopped into her own inquiry since there was little else to add on her Glyph usage. "I don't see a weapon on you anywhere. Do you use your hands, like Elaine?"

"No, I wield this." Kitsune withdrew a small cylinder with multiple grooves on it, which opened to extend multiple fine wires. With a press of a button, they went rigid and stuck together, shaping a blade; in loose form, they could wind together and become a long single strand, and from there could straighten into a longer sword, and when the cords were multiple but shorter they solidified to a shorter but broader edge. 'First Light', as she called it, was quite multi-purpose and impressive.

"Obaz would have a heyday with that... He designs and builds all of his own equipment, and loves to analyze others." The fact seemed to intrigue the Faunus girl, but they chose to remain silent for a time as she became more alert. From the look of her, she could hear or otherwise sense the presence of something close by.

* * *

><p>Sophia and Elaine were making less time than the others, though since Sophia knew beforehand that they were going for a tentative approach she left the majority of her ample munitions and gear that made a racket behind, for once not wearing her pale blue longcoat with the rest of her Huntress attire. It was primarily because they had been cut off by the minor Grimm roaming about more than once already, and had to silence the beasts before they could raise an alarm. Fortunately, these were once again minor Grimm rather than major, so the stopping power of both Sophia and Elaine was almost too much.<p>

Elaine had been skeptical when Sophia had arrived with what to her looked like a lump of hardware built solely to demolish opponents. When its melee form grew even bigger, she wondered just how the smaller blonde would actually heft the weight, but found by this point she knew her way around the massive machine. With this in mind, she said; "You're not exactly little, but that thing is the last I expected you to show up with. Isn't it a little big for you?"

"It's an heirloom of my family... And I think it's the perfect size for me, even after considering some other things." Sophia replied. They carried on without words for a while, but Sophia had something she needed to get out there it seemed;

"I like animals."

Elaine stopped, gave her a look of part confusion and part suspicion of insult. "That was random..."

Sophia continued; "Animals don't hurt each other needlessly. They don't covet things just because they don't have them. They definitely don't judge you... so, if a person seemed to share the traits of an animal, I can't consider it anything but an improvement. I wouldn't go as far as Obaz, but I can say for a fact that I like Faunus. So... you can trust me out here, okay?"

Elaine had halted altogether to look straight into her eyes. It took a few seconds, but it eventually seemed that she believed her, or at least didn't distrust her at all. It was relieving, as at first Sophia was afraid to say such things now, in case she might take them as lies to ensure Sophia's own protection. The Lioness continued forward, and Sophia babbled on a bit further; "I couldn't say for sure about Laera, but the boys on my team agree with me to some extent. We know Obaz already, and Regis likes anyone with lady parts, Faunus or not."

Elaine was startled by this. "Your team's leader? Regis... Is a womanizer?"

"The lowest skirt-chaser I've ever met. Hands down." Sophia said with some clearly founded assurance. Which would mean they paired him up with...

"Oh god, what have we done?..." Elaine could already feel a migraine coming on for what she knew would happen after the mission, for however long those two were still inseparable. Would any female be safe?

* * *

><p>Since having been stuck together, Regis and Zephyr were absolutely focused on the mission for the first ten minutes. Once Zephyr had joked about wishing for the warm embrace of a female companion and Regis wholeheartedly sympathized, they both had been sharing stories, tips, and ratings of their more curvaceous allies. Zephyr was spotting Grimm for them to sneak by or assassinate with Regis' silent projectiles or leg blades switched off, but for the most part had to do this very little.<p>

"Honestly, though, if I could just land one night with that leader of yours... damn, I've got a soft spot for redheads." Regis half-chuckled, half-said to the Hawk Faunus.

"Yeah, well good luck with that. If you were to pull it off, you would be the undeniable master of courtship my friend... That said, you can probably guess what the chances of victory are. Choose your battles wisely." He nodded sagely, as if they were on a deep and righteous topic of conversation. Regis made a shrug-like gesture.

"Hey, a man can dream."

"A man can dream." Zephyr agreed. They sounded like fans of the same sports team that had failed to bring home the cup the last several years. Regis went onto a different subject for the time being from there;

"Speaking of dreams, what's going through that Arden guy's head? Passes out at the drop of a dime; I've never seen anything like it. I mean, it's admirable, trying to be a Huntsman while overcoming a crippling weakness like Narcolepsy, but come on." His feathered companion laughed at the gift for description that the Human had, taking that moment to put together a reply.

"Guy has his reasons. Though Obaz might be carrying him around right now, if push comes to shove he'll do what he needs to do. Despite appearances, he's dangerously strong." Somehow, the last part of his own statement seemed to hit a nerve for the Faunus boy, as his expression darkened.

Regis changed the subject yet again, after his own demeanor changed in light of their current environment. "It seems a little too quiet out here, given this Grimm threat is big enough to warrant a mission of this scale..." It weren't as if they had met no setbacks or monsters at all, but the number was less than they had come to expect.

Zephyr nodded in agreement, eyes peeled for any signs of danger.

* * *

><p>Obaz had been thinking the same thing, but until he had a definitive notion on why the Meadow seemed so scarce of Grimm he was simply sticking to their original plan. Arden was trudging alongside him, and between the four pairs this was the only one led by the <em>Resolve <em>member; Obaz had memorized the in-depth map of the meadow itself and Arden had slept through any and all experiences his team had had with the locale. All he knew were the places most comfortable, and even then couldn't show you exactly how to get there; only recognize one if they came across it.

While normally, since the peril of this mission had thus far underwhelmed them, Arden would have gone on a daydreaming autopilot behind Obaz. The Beacon student had talked incessantly since they entered the Meadow, and unlike any other person that might try to chat his ear off, he found it impossible to ignore Obaz; mainly, because the conversation had started with something that caught him off guard and continued to be of interest to Arden afterward;

"That is an interesting dream you have." Obaz had said casually, which caused Arden to take his small, leather-bound notebook and pocket it while glaring at his current partner with distaste. "Oh, I never meant to pry into your private matters. I could see the text reflected off the lenses of your glasses."

For the first time, Arden's larger-than-life spectacles had done him a disservice. He was about to suggest they merely keep moving when Obaz carried on; "as I mentioned before, I have no firsthand experience in the matter, but I believe you are going about your current goal of 'sleep research' wrong –if the accounts of your teammates are true."

"I wouldn't say I'm... _researching_ it. I just like to sleep." Arden replied, hoping things would end there.

"Your notes suggest you should be refining the technique, considering. And a place as trying as Aspire Academy should be a perfect testing ground." His spiky-haired accompaniment looked confused.

"If there's a 'technique' for sleeping, I have it pretty well down by now."

Obaz held up one hand, index finger skyward, like any teacher. "On the contrary; while one such as yourself can fall into slumber multiple times a day, and find better positions to do so, your lethargy in classes and training actually hinder these experiences."

"How so?"

"Sleep is a mechanism for the human body to recover, revitalize, and reset. If you were to think of yourself as a sort of battery, the frequency at which you recharge despite having spent yourself very little should be shortening your overall energy lifespan. Furthermore, your decisions to avoid all exerting tasks and activities required of you merely to sleep impacts quality; if you were to exhaust yourself as much as possible, your sleep will be less easily interrupted, and yield more emphatic results upon waking. Simply put, if you worked yourself as hard if not more so than your peers between your times of rest, you will go into and come out of sleep with far more appreciation and enjoyment of the act. In theory, anyway."

He had a point, though the last thing Arden wanted to do was go about his favorite pastime scientifically. If anything, were Arden to follow this advice and start 'experimenting' with his sleep, it would probably be an unknown number of years hence, after he was done procrastinating against it in an ironic fashion. Obaz gestured silence for both of them, the rendezvous point fast approaching but perhaps he had seen something between them and the location.

Three trees past the thicket ahead of them were larger than the surrounding ones, and the centermost was hollowed out near the base and up for about twenty feet, before the empty wood and bark met a point where it had snapped. There were six Balmung present here, all facing the hollow tree; a seventh was occupying the space, one that was covered with scales that both spiked up and hooked forwards. Its claws were longer, tail much thicker and spikes protruding from all sides for the whole length of it. It was at least three times the size of the others, barely being able to fit in the hollow, and the six before it looked as if they were subservient.

"That is more than an Alpha... It must be some anomalous growth, or a subspecies. A 'Sigma' so to speak." Obaz whispered to himself more than anything. The Grimm becoming more of a problem in these parts must have been because the Balmung were being coordinated by this greater one, and likely spreading into the Ursa's territory, causing agitation in both breeds. They needed to slip by here unnoticed, and explain the unexpected creature to their other members; there had been no reason to single out any given Grimm in this mission until now, and that could severely affect the plan.

It could take more time than he would like, but Obaz chose to try and go around nearly to the point of doubling back a bit, as the senses on a Balmung were acute. Before leaving their vantage point, however, Obaz could see the Sigma Balmung looking straight at their position from where it lay, through its peripheral vision, but not moving to act yet; it was aware of them, and aware they were watching, waiting for them to move before beginning any sort of chase.

"It sees us..." Arden seconded the thought, either more attentive than he made himself out to be or with a good intuitive sense. He had that Falchion of his gripped tightly, Obaz' own hand ready to spring back for Mk. IV.

Obaz, instead, reached for his scroll. "Hold still. Sudden movements may trigger them." He withdrew the object and began typing a message without looking at it, sluggishly as possible. His finger hovered over the _Send _prompt once he was done.

"Are you ready?"

* * *

><p>Sophia, Elaine, Obaz and Arden had yet to make it to the rendezvous, while the other half of their forces waited patiently. Zephyr was making another quick sweep of the immediate area being the best set of eyes when a ping came from their scrolls, signifying a message received, and hardly seconds after Kitsune thought to check what it was a deafening chorus of roars shook the Meadow like a hunting horn sounding the discovery of prey. Kitsune hurriedly checked her scroll while making her way toward the sounds, the other three just behind her;<p>

|_Six Balmung along with a seventh unknown variant. More dangerous than Alpha. Unable to avoid, forced to engage. Find the other Grimm and draw them in as needed._|

Obaz was telling them that he and Arden had found the most dangerous Grimm in the Meadow, but was telling them to stick to the plan. That would go over well... she craned her neck to look at the other two males; "Regis, Zephyr, I need you two to finish what we started; start making some noise and bring the Grimm to the ambush squad. Laera and I will find Obaz and Arden."

They both nodded and broke formation, planning to take as many enemies away from the havoc zone as they could. Elaine and Sophia were probably already rerouting toward the cries of bloodlust, so it would be six-on-seven within the next few moments... but for the first however short period, it would be a measly two versus, and she hoped to herself that would be enough for now. As she shot through the underbrush before her Laera was hot on her heels, and they soon came out from either side of a hollowed-out remnant of a massive tree.

The first thing to notice was that of the two comrades they were looking for, only one was in sight; Arden was avoiding claw swipes with some difficulty from the abnormal Balmung, the beast's much bulkier tail swinging violently to smash the surrounding growth. Several meters to their right, was a roiling mass of skewer-like scales and spines fighting over the same small space, and from here it sounded like talons were wrenching the very flesh from something's bones. Laera looked terrified to say the least.

Kitsune caught the Sigma Balmung's arm with First Light's whip wires, holding it back long enough for Arden to get in a glancing blow with his falchion and dart over to her side. The pile of lesser Grimm to the side shifted greatly upon the sound of an explosion beneath them, and five were tossed in multiple directions from the location as the sixth was shown to have been ripped apart rather than a Huntsman in whatever confusion there had been. These remains were charred from the detonation of something underneath it, and Obaz rounded the other side of the tree nearest the three others here with him.

There was no time for words as the Sigma roared, gaining the attention of its underlings and showing them the proper target. The four Hunters bolted, heading south to even the odds a little bit further. When one of the Balmung lunged forward for an attempt on Kitsune's back, Laera blocked it with a Glyph, and another leaped off the side of a tree to try to land on Arden. The boy jumped to the side and rolled to a disadvantageous stop in a prone position, Obaz bringing up the rear kicked him hard in the ribs, in a way that brought Arden up into a stumbling sprint that he soon righted; no time to be stopping and helping someone stand.

They rushed over a decline where Sophia and Elaine were taking another Balmung to the ground; Sophia was drawing her lance tip from the neck area when the Sigma overshot the decline itself, nearly crashing down on Elaine who ducked the rampant Grimm. Skidding to a halt ahead of them, the Sigma Balmung stood barring their way toward the ambush squad; arms open wide in preparation to intercept while its followers closed in. Elaine cracked her knuckles, Sophia reloaded, and Obaz had somehow faded into the background again.

Upon the other five Balmung making it over the hill now behind them, Kitsune snared one with her whip again and propelled it in its fall headfirst into the ground. She followed this by straightening First Light into a broadsword and driving it into the creature's open mouth, slicing through the gums, tongue, and finally the left cheek on the way out. It writhed sporadically, and she hopped back to dodge the jaws snapping after her once it had rolled onto its hands and feet. Laera used a motion Glyph to zip around another, leaping to avoid the barbed tail and making a slash for the underarm, drawing blood but not making a very good strike.

The three behind these made it down to their level, Arden keeping the first of them off the other girls' backs. Elaine was searching out a way for her claws to get past the Sigma's defenses while it was blocked at every turn by Sophia's upsprung shield, the Lioness finding a possibility where the tail met the small of its back but nearly getting demolished by the enormous limb behind the beast. One of the other three Balmung intended to trample Arden and jump at Kitsune with the massive claws on its feet, and might have succeeded were it not attacked by Obaz from above; he fell from the overhead branches once he had been thoroughly forgotten and drove the blade of Mk. IV into the monster's eyeball. It thrashed and nearly threw him off, but he pressed his weight further down on the hilt of his sword until he hit vitals and the Balmung dropped motionless.

To both allies and Grimm alike something became apparent now that Obaz was out in the open again; his left sleeve fluttered empty, his arm lost. This made him a prime target for those not making any progress with their feistier meals, and he knew it well. Withdrawing the Mk. IV, he stepped back from the approaching Balmung and used his weapon as a crowbar to lift the dead weight of the one he just killed, ramming into the corpse's chest and putting the wall of standing scale blades between himself and it. There was a moment of his opponent grabbing its fallen kin and tossing it aside before Arden was now standing in its way, ready to make a whirling throw of his falchion that caught it in its exposed lower throat. With a yank of the chain, he brought the Balmung to a kneeling position, and finished it by grasping the sword and dragging it upward through the tough scales like butter along with the rest of the Balmung's larynx. The beast gurgled and clawed at the rended throat shortly.

Using First Light's whip form, the elongated version was keeping Kitsune's enemy at bay easily, and when it got fed up with the stinging rope it tried to brave the flurry of attacks and devour her. She sidestepped the lunge with hardly a centimeter to spare, switching her whip to a blade and stabbing it beneath the shoulder blade, up into the heart. Sophia was struck by the Sigma's massive tail and flung past her toward the hill, and when this took Elaine's eyes elsewhere she had to catch her opponent's hand by two fingers as it tried to snatch her up. Though she snapped both the digits, the rest of the hand enclosed on her frame, and squeezed tightly enough to squash a lesser man. Elaine only showed signs of being unable to break free and a small amount of pain, but the Sigma brought her up to bite the girl's head...

A Glyph formed in the air between Elaine and the maw about to engulf her upper half, startling the Sigma. Circling behind it, Obaz directed Laera to attack the back of the knee which brought it to a kneel; using the opportunity, he deflected the free hand trying to rake him while aiming for the one holding a captive. Stabbing the tip of Mk. IV into a space between two of the scales at the wrist, he made sure it was secure before letting go, backing up, and giving a wild drop kick to the hilt forcing the scales to part and the blade straight through bone and tendon, bursting out the other side.

A screech of pain escaped the Sigma as the nerves spasmed in its arm, causing it to release the Lioness from its clutch and roll onto its side fully, holding the wounded wrist with its other hand and screaming in agony. Obaz clambered over the mutant while gesturing for the others to follow, and soon they all had passed through where it had been stalling them. Ahead was the edge of the Meadow, where they could already hear combat with Ursa and other Balmung that Regis and Zephyr must have baited this way already, but even as they had dropped the number they had with them to three out of seven the Sigma and its remaining two lackeys were dead set on destroying those they were after. Obaz held out his only remaining hand to Sophia, who unholstered the pistol from her thigh and slapped it into his palm.

Breaking the treeline, the edge of the Meadow was a warzone; Hunters were battling any Grimm that had passed the traps unharmed, which only consisted of those that had climbed over their brethren that already filled these many emplacements, but these were still fairly numerous and dropping like flies. The Sigma Balmung and its entourage burst out onto the scene, which scared just about everyone but Zephyr, who popped it three times in the face with ice-cold sniper rounds that froze the contacted areas via dust.

Regis finished sawing through the neck of a downed adversary when he saw their remaining number make it in one piece, though he noted one of them was a significantly smaller piece. The hesitation would have cost him dearly, having the tail of a Balmung coming in hard for his legs, if not for Elaine catching the scaly length. She roared once turning with all her might, lifting the Balmung attached off the ground and slamming it into a boulder sticking out of the ground nearby, its death resounding a meaty thwack and pleasant crunch. It feebly tried to get back up, but she gave a spin kick to the creature's jaw as a courtesy.

The Ambush teams felled one of the extra Balmung while Kitsune pulled Arden out from the reach of the Sigma. They both stood ready for the monstrosity, but just as quickly the beast sized up the many Hunters around it and chose to flee back into the Meadow. At this, all the Hunters that had turned toward the menace gave chase despite Kitsune's warnings, their near victory drowning out her words as they gained on the wounded Grimm. Having lost sight of it in the foliage, they had been about to fan out when most of the forest and shrubbery near the mob was blown to pieces by a maelstrom of rage; the Sigma had sunken into its environment and waited until they had gone just past it, and would now eviscerate at least half of the many Humans and Faunus now blinded by panic.

Strings of fine wire flung out to trap the limbs of the Sigma Balmung like a violent puppet, and this restraint gave the other students a chance to collect themselves. A symphony of steel through flesh and gunshots breaking scales sounded the end of the anomaly as it finally fell bleeding to the Meadow's mossy floor, and for good measure Elaine punched it in the head a half dozen times more. Obaz himself finished off an Ursa minor with Sophia's sidearm before tossing it back to his partner and retrieving his own lost weapon from the Sigma's wrist. Within a few minutes, the final checks had been made, and though there was minimal damage to the Meadow no Grimm remained in the area.

* * *

><p>"Quick and dirty. I like it." Regis said, turning off his greaves. Amid the landscape of utter carnage the other students began chatting about their kill counts and other such trivial matters, while Kitsune called in the success and a good number of eyes were regarding Obaz' lack of a limb. He in turn reminded them that a very large portion of them had been saved by Kitsune, who had forgone the race barrier and simply saved their lives. Each and every one of them grumbled as their glory was dampened by the Beacon student's lecturing, but couldn't argue the fact.<p>

Two ships landed a fair distance from the students, and one bore Beacon's imagery; it would seem that their transport had been waiting for things to be wrapped up, and would now take them from here immediately. Regis fake sobbed that he would hear of every score Zephyr made from here on out or they wouldn't be friends anymore, to which the Hawk Faunus obliged with a chuckle and the girls pointedly ignored. The two teams' cooperation had been well-documented, though, and that was their job done here; a few final goodbyes and they would likely not see each other again for a very long time, if ever.

As Kitsune spoke at length with Sophia and Laera with such formalities as when they should best choose to visit, Arden stood by Obaz without really looking at him, near the Beacon shuttle's hangar door.

"What happened to your arm?" The bespectacled teen questioned.

"What happened to yours?" Obaz rebuked. Arden looked surprised, but shook that off quickly enough. Both stood in silence for a time.

Sighing, Obaz explained. "I've been using a mechanical replacement. If I exert it too much, such as when I fend off a screaming Balmung, the limb can explode; so I detached it before it would."

Arden nodded. That was more than he had expected after the first comment. Turning to face him, Arden shook his hand. "Come back anytime... just keep your voice down."

"Duly noted." Obaz waved slackly with his one hand and climbed aboard the airship to take him away from Notus. The last to board his own back to Aspire, Arden thought of something, taking the notebook from his jacket. In one of the pages farther back, he found the page titled; _'The Day After my Ideal World'._ Below some other small sentences, he quickly scribbled down a note;

'_Teach Obaz how to sleep.'_


	11. Gray Trailer (Ch 22-B)

**|While I was writing up this little escapade, it dawned on me that this would make a good 'trailer' chapter if Obaz were actually introduced near Volume 2. (A man can dream okay?) So to make it seem more like one of those, Obaz is described as if you're meeting him for the first time here, philosophical original quote included. All we'd need now is theme music... (Paul Udarov's mix of "So Long Sentiment" would be my choice, but who knows; maybe someone could one-up me.) Otherwise, we can just treat this as an alternate first chapter of the story given we had started at a later point in time.|**

* * *

><p>"<strong>Gray" Trailer<strong>

* * *

><p>"<em>To shine is to draw in those who want something from the light, but to remain dull begets a fear of eternal seclusion. A brief respite, but all colors eventually fade –and again, dark the world remains."<em>

* * *

><p>The junkyard was devoid of people as it often was, the only witnesses to the crime taking place rusted heaps and twisted metal refuse stacked and skewed haphazardly all over the place. There were some dilapidated garages and shacks scattered throughout the clear patches among the scrap, and the 'No Trespassing' sign had been painted over several times with different slogans or group names. At present, the plot belonged as a hideout to the motley crew driving in from the west, five motorcycles all trailing behind a brand-new Averro Othello 12-V sports car, sleek frame painted black. The rough-looking individuals parking their vehicles in the abandoned lot were whooping and screaming with no one nearby to hear them, the closest habited buildings well out of earshot. Their racing jackets all sported the motif of a machete dripping blood.<p>

The man one could assume headed this gang exited the car, wearing a studded denim jacket and black jeans with several red streaks across them. His hair was also red, eyes a deep brown that were amused by the situation. Walking with deliberated, gloating strides around the vehicle, the man glided a hand over the surface of his first prize. He eventually reached the back door on the other side, yanking it open and violently clasping a hand on the girl zip-tied at the wrists and ankles laying there, his second prize. She screamed, which was a sound that tempted these men to laugh. She was dragged out away from the leather seats onto dirt and gravel, her long white hair tousled and her blue dress torn up one side. Judging by the taller ears and bushy tail, she was some manner of dog or wolf Faunus. "Take these off of me, you freaks!"

Dismounting their smaller transports, the other gang members all surrounded the woman in a loose circle, causing her to shrink as far away from them all as she could inwardly. The leader himself smirked down at the girl, hair still grasped firmly in his right hand. "And they say no gifts picked up at the last second make good ones..."

Letting go of her locks, he just as quickly grabbed the girl's chin and drew her face upward; she was beautiful all right, though for most the look of trepidation on her would be a turn-off. Quite the opposite for those present here... He let go of her, walking out of the ring of his five goons to cross his legs and lay on the hood of his new car. They watched him eagerly, until he lazily held up one hand and snapped his fingers; and the five underlings started tearing at restraints, clothes, and limbs like rabid animals over the same steak. They were all bickering who would be 'first to have a go' over their victim's shrill shrieks of desperation.

They had gotten the struggling girl down to her undergarments, which were a lacy blue they were ooh'ing and aah'ing over sarcastically, when a sound other than their play came to their ears; they were planning to ignore it until the redheaded leader perked up. "Keep your pants on, you idiots! Just stop for a damn second!"

They froze in place, and as the white-haired woman kept screaming one of them put a hand over her mouth. After a second or two, they recognized the noise; it was an engine. And the sound was approaching... Their boss slipped off the hood for a moment to face the gates they had entered through, and saw headlights down the long road. They were veering off toward the junkyard. "Well, well well! Who the hell do we have here, fella's?"

None of the men seemed to have an answer for him, and as the lights drew closer the vehicle they belonged to took shape out of the night's embrace; it was an ATV, possibly custom built from the volume the engine roared at for such a small machine. The driver stopped short of the motorcycles, stepped rigidly off his own, and approached the six men and one unfortunate-looking woman while leaving his helmet behind.

The boy's sandy-colored hair was capped with a blue denim worker's hat, leather holstery strapped around a black long-sleeved shirt. Brown cargos with a great number of pockets fell from there until they were tucked into hiking boots, and gloves to match the hat were on his hands. The boy was at least a year or two their younger, and shorter than their smallest by at least an inch.

"It appears you all take many things that do not belong to you." The boy glanced between the car and a few other, relatively new vehicles littering the junkyard. The girl between them was starting to get her breathing under control somehow. She was mouthing the word 'help', but if he saw it he was choosing against any reassurance he could give. The gangsters laughed at him openly.

"And it looks like you've got some screws loose, kid. Here to make us give our things back?"

This statement was taken kindly; "Ah, so you understand. That makes things much simpler than I had expected. The keys, please. That girl looks less than pleased to be here, so if you will release her as well..."

He held out his hand, and the men before him laughed again, inciting a frown on the late arrival. Their leader stepped forward, past the other five, and drew a jet-black machete out from a scabbard strapped across the back of his waist, pointing it menacingly at the intruder. "I like how you asked nicely, but the Cutters don't give. _We take_."

At this point, they had expected the boy either to back off, try to keep negotiating, or stupidly rush them all at once like some hero.

Much to their surprise, he drew what looked like an assault rifle off the back of his own waist and started firing.

There was no warning or hesitation before the bullets started to fly from a gun they hadn't seen in the darkness only lit by headlights, and he had already shot one of them in the arms and legs, blood spattering the ground as he lie immobile. He caught another in the back of the leg once they all snapped out of it and went for cover, and the moment they drew their own handguns and SMGs they heard their enemy cease fire. It was eerily quiet for a moment or two, even though the silencer on their opponent's gun made the attack quiet to begin with. When the gangsters started to peek out of their hiding places, all they could see was their almost victim frightened into silence, and their own member moaning in agony.

"Go get the rest of the guys." The redhead shoved one of his lackeys off to find backup while the rest of them would fan out and search. Two of them circled either side of the car, and the last went limping around the scrap heap closest to the parking area; this unlucky one didn't even see it coming when an industrial-sized oil drum was dropped on his head. At first it had been slammed over his head sideways for damage, and as he fell it was flipped to strike while he was down to be sure he was unconscious –empty as it was, it was still heavy and must have hurt something fierce. The other two present whipped toward the noises and opened fire, only hitting a drum can abandoned on their friend's back.

The remaining two underlings were spooked, and their leader was wary. Whoever this kid was, he wasn't a stranger to fighting in the dark... He caught a glimpse of movement and switched the machete at his side so that the blade bent on an angle, hurling the weapon like a boomerang; it whirled incredibly fast and returned without fail, but it hadn't drawn blood. Behind him, they heard a muffled cry of surprise; turning to face it, one of the two near the car had vanished. The last decided to stand by the leader of their crew.

The area brightened exponentially; the men elsewhere in the junkyard turned on a set of floodlights once meant for the workers here to keep going in the dead of night, and soon after these ten arrived on scene. Only four of them had any sort of gun; the others had crude melee weapons such as pipes and chains. The dirty-blonde culprit was above, and they caught sight of him just as he tipped the old frame of an SUV to come crashing down from one of the higher heaps, nearly crushing two of the men most rearward of the group and sealing their way back to the floodlights and abandoned buildings. They shot a few times but didn't seem to hit him before he vanished behind the metals.

They turned their firearms to the left and right of the heap, knowing he would have to come out one side or the other now. He against their judgement found some way to squeeze between the junk in the pile he had been standing on moments ago and came out from between a few rusted girders, disarming three of the men with hand shots on approach before swapping the gun in his hands, twisting the frame so it formed a hilt and hand guard while a long blade extended from the cross-shaped stock, sleek at the front and jagged at the back. They hadn't been expecting half a flamberge of all things, and the boy's reach was greater than they anticipated with this.

The last two with guns were his first targets, and while he sliced the first across the chest and launched the man against the ground the other hurriedly fell back and let his allies get between them. Two of them swung at him with a vertical and horizontal swing from either side; he braced the flat of the sword against his back and turned, blocking the horizontal pipe while batting away the vertical one with a swing of his left arm followed by punching the man in the throat, dropping him with the strike and whirling with a turning slash for the next closest opponent. Cutting through the man's steel chain twice over, he brought the handguard back short to bash this one in the side of the head and boot him in the stomach to fall crumpled onto the ground. Between dodging the only remaining gunman and the nine trying to surround him, the boy stomped and kicked those unarmed that were trying to retrieve the guns he had shot from their hands.

The leader of the gang barreled in, and as he did the underlings parted for him; he and the intruder exchanged blows at all sides for a time, surprisingly despite the flamberge being nearly twice the length of his machete they swung at each other at nearly the same speeds; that was until the blade shortened by about half, and his opponent started wielding it with one hand. Soon the redhead was overwhelmed, and even as his cronies tried to even the odds they were thrown back or cut in ways that prevented them from attacking again. The boy swung his foot up in a rising arc that shattered their leader's chin, and as he came down from the kick he spun to slash two more of the gangsters about to try grabbing him.

A shot pierced the intruder's shoulder, and once realizing this happened he made a dash for the gunman he had been forced to ignore. One of the close-ranged attackers attempted to stop him only to get sliced up both arms and nose shattered, falling like a sack of grain to make way for the boy's lunge for the reloading shooter. The man avoided the first slash with a scream but got slapped across the face with the now-extended flat of the blade, leaving him open to a shoulder thrust that knocked him sprawling end over end through the dirt. Their leader had recovered from the jaw-breaking kick to his chin and threw his machete in boomerang state, and though its course was altered upon leaving a gash up the blonde's back it returned to him still. They were the only ones left now, and he straightened the machete to move in.

The intruder switched to the short version of his sword again, and they matched blows evenly, sparks raining from each vicious clatter of steel. Deflecting a stab to his leg, the leader managed to get a thin cut across his opponent's right shoulder but was punched hard in the gut, throwing him down. Grabbing a handful of the grit he was laying on, he threw it at his attacker's face but the boy turned his head away from the dirty trick having expected it, kicking the redhead in the ribs followed by stepping down on his head. This nearly earned him a severed ankle from the machete, but he moved his foot just fast enough to get out of harm's way. In frustration the leader picked up one of his fallen gangster's chains and swung it around in tandem with the machete he never used with both his hands, and this managed to catch the boy off guard, allowing him to knock his sword aside and wrap the chain around his neck whilst circling behind him.

Choking the life out of the brat was bringing a manic smile to the man's face, but that didn't last as he was kicked in the side of the knee, elbowed in the ribs where he had been kicked earlier and thrown over the intruder's back when he lost his footing. Dodging the leader's frenzy of attacks as he was getting to his feet, they traded blows for another few seconds when finally the machete was forced aside, and the boy darted backwards in a coiled-up position to leap forward, smashing the bottom of the hand guard into the man's eye and making him stumble while turning around to catch himself. The top dog of the 'Cutters' felt the back of his head grasped before it was yanked and then sent into the side of the broken SUV. This action was repeated a few times until he was unconscious, and he was given one more for good measure before released.

The sandy-haired invader of their turf had taken them all out single-handedly, and now that that was over with he started dialing the police on his scroll. He had been about to sheath his weapon when one of the low-ranking gang members stood from where he had been demolished like the rest, holding an SMG and prepared to fire it at his tormentor, but before he could finish shouting in rage a lead pipe connected with his head; the Faunus girl had gotten her leg restraints free, and though her wrists were still bound she had been able to grab a weapon and swing it. She threw the object down on his head for the sake of it, stepping away from them all like they were contagious.

"... Thanks. For getting me out of this mess." Her voice cracked after the gratitude, as she was clearly still shaken. She seemed cautious, probably because he was just as human as they were by appearances. Making a slow deliberation of the process to show he wasn't trying anything funny, the boy took her hands and carefully cut the tie on her wrists for her.

"You're welcome. Can you drive?" She gave him a puzzled look. "I initially came here to get my boss' car back."

He gestured to the Othello, and her expression darkened. "I hadn't known they were kidnappers as well until I arrived here, just so you know. You're quite lucky... So, I would like to bring the ATV and the Othello back to where they belong –if you do not wish to assist me, you can wait here for the police to arrive. However, if you would like to leave this place and get clothed as quickly as possible, I will allow you to drive the Othello to your home first." He was more considerate than he first appeared to be, and she nodded gratefully, blinking back the tears only now trying to shed.

The girl looked back at the many ruffians only temporarily out cold. She shivered, and then rifled through their leader's pockets for the keys. As an afterthought, once she had the keys she glanced at her savior. "What's your name?"

"Obaz. A pleasure to meet you."


	12. Possibilities (Ch 23-B)

**Possibilities**

"You think Obaz might build us a new set of bunk beds?" Ruby posed the question out of nowhere. The idea seemed to have the girl's teammates thinking as she went on; "I mean, sure, we made our own. But they're not exactly... ideal."

If shoddily crafted hazards that had lasted longer than any of them expected could be summed up as 'not ideal' Ruby had gotten the definition down. Weiss was the first to offer her own opinion, which wasn't rare. "He's an auto mechanic, self-taught in weapons and prosthetics design. Did you hear _carpentry _or _furnishing _among those?"

Yang shrugged. "Good point, but that's all we know. The guy might be a dentist too, as far as he's concerned; who's to say?" They conceded this point, as he had only told them as much as he had in bits and pieces; he could have had all kinds of expertise in fields they didn't know about. Laera was always saying that he had every skill besides what applied to Huntsmen. "Question is, even if he can, would he do it just because we asked?"

The likelihood of their classmate's labor coming to them free seemed slim, just as she said. Blake was absorbed in a game of labyrinth; that wooden box of a toy where you try to guide the marble through wooden pathways and away from holes on a platform on top, while only using two axis to tilt the board. They had no idea where she got it from... Still, she spoke without taking her eyes off her entertainment. "Given he did make us the bunks, or anything else, they would probably be some kind of prototype that folded up or walked by themselves."

She had said this as if it would deter them, but the thought had Ruby hyped. "You really think he would do that? Maybe he could have them tuck you in at night, or make themselves when you leave them all messy. I wouldn't mind the walking bit, though. We could _go get_ breakfast in bed!"

"He'd make them able to explode or fry us before any of that." Weiss flatly remarked.

"Oh my god... _Bunk rockets._"

Weiss looked at Ruby as if she had lost her marbles; perhaps to supply Blake's toy. "I didn't say that. How did we go from explosive and flammable to rocket propelled?"

"Of course he wouldn't make them rocket propelled, silly. He would make them _shoot _rockets. That sounds very like him." Despite being utterly ridiculous, it did arguably sound very like him.

Weiss stood up as if attempting to reason with the younger girl were going to get her anywhere. "Why would we need _bunks that fired rockets?_"

"So if Cardin comes to our dorm, we can blow him up!" Ruby gesticulated how exciting such a moment would be with a sweep of her arms above her head, mimicking as large a combustion as she could; their leader had resorted to childish but desirable fantasies now.

"Why would Cardin come to our dorm!?" Weiss added, though the way her voice rose to a fever pitch suggested the very idea, in fact, made her want a supply of missiles trained at the door from her bed.

Ruby pouted a little. "It was just a thought. You can tell by looking that the room is too small for things that explode." She looked sorrowfully at their poor excuses for bunk beds now, wishing for crazy new versions having brought to question the integrity of them both.

Yang hadn't spoken much since her first piece, but now tossed her own comment out of the blue. "New bunks would be nice, but what about notes that write themselves? I'd kill for that."

Blake was having a hard time getting her marble out of a tough spot, but looked up at the statement. "Impossible. At best, there could be some kind of automatic pen."

"A pen that could listen to the lecture, and write down what it hears by itself..." Yang mused. Blake had been about to go back to her game, but hearing the reiteration made her look back up.

"Voice recognition, framework around a sheet of paper, programmed movements... I actually wouldn't put that past Obaz. He could very well build notes that write themselves, if anyone." They all stopped to let that one sink in. Where at first these things sounded like baseless banter, suddenly something plausible had come to them. And it was such a lazy invention, that they knew he would never agree to do it.

"Bowls that keep ice cream from melting." Ruby said.

"Easy." Blake thought aloud.

"Towels that go to you, when you forget them before you shower?" Yang wondered.

"... Not quite like that, but I wouldn't doubt something that does it. Like an emergency dispenser." Blake mildly agreed.

"Jewellery that could save itself from falling into the drain?" Weiss had lost an earring to the black hole that was plumbing in their bathroom sink.

Blake gave her a sly look. "That's a good one. Go ahead and ask him, Weiss."

Realizing she had joined them in dreaming things up, Weiss scoffed and turned away from her teammate, trying to pick her pride off the floor. "As if I would..."

* * *

><p>"You make a lot of things Obaz, but could you make more mundane inventions than robotic limbs, or Hunter weaponry?" Weiss couldn't put a finger on why she had chosen to ask him after all, though it could have been how tauntingly Blake had basically dared her earlier. The sandy-haired boy in question turned his head to adhere her as they left class.<p>

"I already did, if you consider personal vehicles simpler than arms of either sort. If you mean something else, be more specific." Obaz said. She almost wanted to stop herself here, but continued;

"Something like jewellery that could get itself out of a drain pipe?" Obaz grimaced slightly.

"There is no need for an elaborate contraption as far as things _that_ mundane are concerned." Weiss now heard something she didn't like, which sparked her need to debate with him;

"How so? Losing small things –like, the cap off your toothpaste –in the drain is a very common problem. Jewellery is a most serious example." She heard him sigh, which lit her temper even more.

Crossing his arms, Obaz gave her his full attention now. "As I said, there is no need for me, or anyone else for that matter, to make something for such a reason. You should trust your common sense; put mesh over the drain. It will catch small objects before they fall into the pipe." It was simple, but genius. Even if you had to clean the mesh from time to time it was better than losing your prized and precious piercing. Surely, though, no such solution existed for all problems of that nature.

"What if you go to have a shower, but forget a towel?"

"Write a reminder in permanent on your shower curtain. That would certainly be hard to miss." Obaz suggested.

Weiss went on. "What if you can't eat ice cream fast enough to keep it from melting too much? You could make a bowl that keeps it cold, couldn't you?"

Obaz' grimace became a cringeworthy scowl. "That is hardly even a problem, mundane or no. Eat in smaller portions, or keep a bowl in the freezer to cool. It will prolong your most important frozen treat from the harsh environment that is room temperature." The sarcasm was dripping from his tone, but again it was a good idea.

"What if you are sick, but no one plans to let you borrow that day's notes? And you can't get them from the teacher? It would save you a great trouble if you had notes that wrote themselves." She was scraping the bottom of the barrel now.

"Are you sure you have enough variables in that hypothetical question?" He quipped at her. "You have such a thing already. Your scroll has voice recognition and a document program; to link the two is child's play. You would merely have to convince the teacher to hold your scroll during the lecture in your plight, unless you wanted Ruby's babble intermittently." According to Obaz, one should have prepared countermeasures in advance for all of the things her team had come up with last night.

Weiss was not going to ask him what she should do if Cardin came knocking and they were at a lack of bunk rockets, so she frustratedly took her leave.

* * *

><p>After team <em>RWBY <em>returned to their dorm and found some new precautions set around it, a quick round of inquiries about them led Ruby and Yang to glance knowingly at Weiss once it was clear that none of them had written on the shower curtain, set mesh over the drain, or put bowls in the freezer. She tried to ignore them but failed to do so without much of a fight.

"What are you all staring at me for?"

"I didn't think all those things we brought up yesterday actually bothered you so much. Actually, I didn't even think ice cream could melt on you. You were gonna be my last resort next time it happened." Ruby said innocently. Yang was laughing a bit more obnoxiously about the whole thing.

"Please, please, _please _tell me you actually asked him!"

"She did. Laera heard them talking about it around the corner..." Blake giggled under her breath. Weiss was appalled that at least half of team _Resolve _were frequent eavesdroppers. They picked on the heiress a little more with great success as they gathered what they needed and left the dorm room again, meeting team _Juniper _in the hallway minus Pyrrha. Yang continued to rib Weiss as they exited their personal space;

"Seriously, though, what did you think Obaz'd make for you? A drainpipe retrieval bot or something?" Nora turned her attention from clinging to Ren upon hearing this;

"Why not? He made the anti-snore for me." Team _RWBY_ dropped all expressions and shared a similar level of disbelief among them at the dismissive comment.

"Anti-snore?" Blake repeated, unable to comprehend.

"Yup. Goodbye, chainsaw noises –hello, good night sleep." She seemed proud of the fact that she had warranted an invention to fight her unconscious cacophony each time they turned in for bed.

Weiss immediately grabbed the bubbly girl and turned her back to the group; "How? How did you convince him to do something like that?"

"Wasn't me, it was Jaune. Right Jaune?" The scrawny teen was now in the hot seat, and he already felt that something was strange about the whole conversation. Still, the expectant eyes on him said that he wasn't going to make it out of this unless he told them the secret, or what seemed to be one.

He rubbed the back of his head, looking at a cobweb near the ceiling for support since Nora and Ren had none. "Well, Nora snores really loud at night, and I can't wear earplugs to sleep like Pyrrha and Ren, so I asked Obaz if there was a way to just make her stop. He said no a bunch of times, I offered to let him have some of Ren's pancakes with us, and he changed his mind. Built a choker (Ironically) that opens her airways, or something like that, and not a peep from her since."

"... So, you're saying all it takes to bribe Obaz... is _pancakes_?" Ruby questioned in utter dumbfoundedness. Jaune made a similar face to the ones they had on, only defensive.

"Your guess is as good as mine. It looks that way to me, but it's hard to say what the guy really wants. Everybody has their favorite food, and Ren –does– make some good pancakes..."

Weiss shook her head, remembering how her discussion with him went earlier and now considering the differences a flapjack would have made. "Unbelievable..."

"I think we all know what we have to ask ourselves next." Yang said.

"Who's going to make this batch?"

* * *

><p>At lunch, Obaz would normally leave the cafeteria and find some peaceful outdoors location to sit and enjoy whatever meal he was having, usually keeping it short. Today, team <em>RWBY <em>had invited him to join them, rather insistently at that. So here he was, keeping a moderate spacing between himself and the siblings on his side of their table, Weiss at the other. Blake was supposedly arriving soon. "How's it goin'?" Ruby delightfully asked.

"Alright, thank you." Obaz rearranged the assortment of veggies and meat on his tray, not yet prepared to dig in while these four continued to act as they were with smiles of plastic.

"Wanna do me a fa-vor?" In an almost sing-song voice she went on, and now he saw what this was about.

"Depending on what that favor may be." He prompted her to clarify.

She ever-so-slowly rolled her eyes to make it look like she was thinking about it, fidgeting slightly. Classic actions of a girl who wants to make what she knows will be an ill-received request. They chose the correct one of the four to negotiate, considering he found it hardest to argue with her, Yang one step lower. "Maybeeee... Build me a set of indestructible headphones that turn into speakers and work underwater and predict Yang's puns and come find me when I lose them?"

"That's a tall order. Also, no."

Ruby went to protest, but Yang stood with a slap of the table. "That's not what we agreed on, sis! We all want our own notes that write themselves! And that can write tests themselves. And answer pop quizzes. Weiss just wants her to do her day planner like a personal aide, but that's not the point."

"Still no. I am not some handyman who attends this school to make all of you convenient toys." Obaz said sternly. Weiss seemed to think the exact opposite by the sense of entitlement exuding from her.

Blake arrived with a plate covered by a silver dome, setting it down between the girls. She had a coy tone to her voice when she spoke; "That's just too bad... and here I was going to share some of these with you." Removing the lid, a stack of golden-brown, appetizing pancakes oozing with fine butter and sweet forever fall syrup sat like a hoard of treasure in a dragon's lair. Obaz showed absolutely no signs of surprise or interest.

There was a very long pause at this point. After nothing happened, the four of them slipped away from the table with a swoosh and formed up like a sports team to discuss what to do next, as their plan A had failed. Some heated whispering, a few peeks over their encircled heads at the boy, and a kick of Weiss' shin later, they returned to their positions and began divvying up the heavenly breakfast platter among themselves.

As they ate, and relished in the flavor of the gods as they so put it in a loud manner, Obaz couldn't seem to decide how he wanted to keep his hands on the table. At first they were simply flat, but every few seconds he folded them or clasped them in a different way, and when they were reaching to finish the last two fluffy morsels Obaz' hand shot out like a hawk to snatch the edge of the plate and draw it to himself.

"Who made these?" He demanded. His other hand was holding a fork, but he had not been given permission, so it shook to resist a powerful temptation. Ruby held up her hand;

"Sweet things are my specialty, so when we decided they had to be chocolate chip it was my job. Blake had to top them off and wait for the signal."

"... chocolate chip?" Obaz swallowed hard, glaring down at the treats before him. That sealed the deal. It might have been worth his very soul depending on the ratio of chocolate to batter. "I will do as you ask, if I may have these as compensation."

"Done." Ruby's nonchalance scarcely covered her joy in the face of victory, and watched as he surprisingly didn't devour the pancakes, instead eating them as he would anything else. The only difference was the rays of happy she could practically see emanating from him, like the sugar was brightening his very aura. His mouth had a slight upward tilt that was the closest she had seen on him to a legitimate smile, and one look at her teammates said that they saw it too; it was almost reward enough watching the glumness disappear from their friend, though they knew it wouldn't last.

He finished the meal neatly, and gave his regards to Ruby for making the food suit his tastes. Weiss was the first to cut to the chase now that lunch had been served; "So you'll make us the self-sufficient notes?"

"Absolutely not. Ruby made the pancakes; she will get the headphones she spoke of." Ruby squeaked with excitement, already showing him what she wanted them to generally look like with her old ones as an example and some wild hand gestures, while the other three sat with spite ready to sling at the huntsman. Three became two when Obaz allowed Blake her own minor recompense for her part in the offering bestowed on him today, and soon they were discussing a bookmark that remembered the page it was last on.

Weiss looked to Yang. "Can you make pancakes?"

"It can't be that hard..."

Their bunks, as hazardous as the day they built them, sat forgotten in the dorm.


	13. Matters of the Heart (Ch 35-B)

**Matters of the Heart**

"Alright Baz, we want answers!" Sun demanded.

"Yeah, it's time to talk!" Neptune added. Obaz glanced between both of these people, and then looked around the cafeteria currently empty.

Sun quickly grabbed his teammate's shoulder and turned him around, retreating as quickly as they had begun the interrogation. "Dude, I thought we agreed on good-cop-bad-cop. There can't be two bad-cops."

"I thought you were gonna be good-cop..." Neptune said, and they whispered their argument until they turned back around. "Okay, uh, sorry... Please give us some answers?"

"You're still demanding. Good-cop, like, delivers fresh coffee and gives bad-cop a full nelson when he gets out of control. There you go; go get some coffee." Neptune muttered something and walked away, head in one hand. Sun turned back to Obaz.

"So, what's it gonna be, huh? Going to spill the beans? I can do this aaaall day!"

Sun received the same stony expression Obaz gave everyone, unimpacted by the world around him. "You seem to be enjoying this routine, but I must admit it will get you less cooperation out of me than you would by being civil. That, and I still have no idea what you want to know. Lastly, I never gave you permission to drop the 'O' in my name."

"... We didn't say that part?" Sun looked genuinely surprised that such a key detail had been overlooked. "Well... uh... thing is, we... Okay, look. You've been friends with Ruby and them –"

Obaz groaned; the first sign of actual irritation with the two he was speaking with even since they started poorly acting out a method of questioning criminals. "Of course, team _Rwby._ Jaune asked me about Weiss the other day, so you must be here about Blake, and Neptune about Yang. Why would a combat school promote social relations like this? If Hunters date among themselves, all it does is raise the likelihood of one's romantic partner _dying_. It literally doubles the ratio."

Sun flinched throughout the short rant, and Neptune was just walking back in with three mugs of coffee. "You just love looking at the bright side, huh? And I'm just along for the ride, but I wouldn't turn down anything you wanna spare about Yang, now that you mention it." Neptune got a look in his eyes Obaz wanted nothing to do with, or be in the same room as, though if one could gauge these things he would say Regis was an a higher tier when it came to a dirty mind. Neptune would hear nothing of Yang from him if it were to fuel whatever dreams were clouding his vision.

Seeing as Sun hadn't spoken up, it seemed the Faunus' goal had been guessed. Obaz crossed his arms. "Neither of you should sing or play a guitar. That did not go well for Jaune."

"Best advice I think I ever heard." Neptune responded.

Sun put his hands on the table, having sat across from Obaz. "Okay, done. What else can you tell us?"

"Blake is abject to the dance to begin with. If she is going at all, she will come to you at the last minute."

Sun gave him a curious look. "You sound pretty sure of that."

"Call it a hunch. I have been having many of them lately." Obaz said. "If you want solid evidence, I cannot provide any, but I will say that out of every friend she has she is most comfortable with you. Perhaps not the best friend she has, but her tenseness visibly lessens. The tail likely helps."

Sun brooded over that. Neptune took a drink of his own coffee. "So who are you after, Obaz?"

"No one. I am working as staff of some kind for the event... the details of that have not been given to me yet, as the decision was rather last-minute." The blue-haired boy looked disappointed. "Actually, I am supposed to be apologizing to Sun right now."

"Why?" The simian asked.

Obaz frowned a bit. "I asked Blake to the dance the other night. As much as she turned me down, according to Regis there was some 'bro code' I should have considered. I was told it would be best to apologize for the 'dick move'. Since that bridge had burned, I chose work instead of play."

Sun looked horrified, Neptune amused. "She didn't seem like your type."

"She is not."

Sun went from stunned back to baffled, and that confusion multiplied from the last time. "Then why'd you ask her?"

"I had reasons besides romantic interest, nor lust for that matter. No further comment." Sun looked far less than satisfied with that, but Neptune moved on with the subject, much to Obaz' dismay.

"So who _is_ your type?"

"Nora Valkyrie." The two men he was speaking with physically drew back from the comment like an explosion just took place before them. It took a moment for Obaz to notice that they were looking past him; swivelling in his seat, the doors to the cafeteria were open; the whole of team _Jnpr _standing in the entrance. All four of them looked like they were at a loss for words.

Pyrrha was the first to speak, letting off a round of awkward, forced laughter. "W-well... We picked quite a time to walk in, eh guys?" Jaune looked more like he was trying to solve this like a math equation in his head, which would actually make for a good attempt at understanding what Obaz had just said. Ren was simply looking at Nora, who skipped into the cafeteria like nothing happened.

"Time to get some grub, time to get some grub –" Her facade only lasted until she tripped, Obaz catching her by the arm. She showed signs of internal panic, staring at him for a second, but soon jumping out of his grip and thanking him quickly. Obaz sighed.

"You can stop that. I have no passion directed at you; they asked me who my 'type' was. You fit the profile of what I would want in a woman, but I have no feelings for you, yourself." She gave him a look of incomprehension, but got the gist, no longer acting like he was going to burn her if she got too close. He began to list points off on his fingers; "Strong-willed, cheerful, honest and forthcoming. It would take such a genuine enjoyment of life for someone to fill the role of being at my side. Someone that I could not eventually drag down... It annoys me that I had to come up with such an ideal, seeing as it is asinine, but the question of romantic interest comes up so often I needed a reply."

Pyrrha now took a seat, on Obaz' side of the table. Her teammates were finding their own locations at the table as she spoke; "There's nothing asinine about hoping for something from the future, Obaz."

"As a Huntsman, my life expectancy is lower than it would be in most other professions. However, I believe it is asinine because I have no intention of finding such a partner, at any point in my life. It will be spent alone." There were varying reactions to that around the table, but reading the faces most of them said they wanted to argue much like Yang did that last time he brought this up. Obaz didn't want to fight all of these Hunters at once. "On a side note, if that is what you think, you should be talking to someone else at this table. You've no time to waste..."

Pyrrha reacted much like he expected, looking slightly flustered and trying to have her own subject dropped. Jaune, again, looked more like the first half of Obaz' response to Pyrrha was a hard problem on a test. He was good at completely ignoring the girl next to him, somehow. "I don't think I've ever heard of someone just... choosing nothing like that."

Obaz scowled further than usual. "That is because under most circumstances, someone searching for love is thinking of themselves. If you put a hammer and a glass into the same box, and you shake it, there are only so many possible outcomes. I choose not to break the glass in some futile attempt to find equilibrium."

It was Nora's turn to argue now; "Women aren't glass, you know."

"I never said I was the hammer in that analogy." Obaz countered. "The most common conclusion to love is heartbreak, and it is widely accepted that heartbreak is a kind of pain so bad that it can cripple. Based on my appearance, personality and skills, the most likely reason for someone to find interest in me would be what I can do for them, which would not last. I would not prefer to be crippled over something so short lived. If that were not the case, my nature would still make things difficult, and such a relationship should not create destitution."

"Haven't you ever heard of unconditional love?" Pyrrha asked. He hadn't pinned her as the kind of person to think of these things, or have much of an opinion on them.

Obaz gave her a look that made her rear back a bit; "There is no such thing. A mother loves their child because they are an investment. A couple love one another because the loss and gain between them is favorable to both. Love is a tool, and a good one at that, but nothing more."

"And we asked this guy for advice..." Sun said, only catching himself shortly after he said it. Obaz shrugged, as if his opinion hadn't been depressing at all.

"As much as I dislike the concept, love makes people happy. If there were anything worth trying to obtain, that would be it."

The atmosphere was so dour it actually felt like night had fallen in the cafeteria and nowhere else. Silently, Obaz stood and left the cafeteria, knowing when he had said enough; Pyrrha watched him go with a look of pity. Sun had his hands in his pockets.

"That guy really needs a pick-me-up."

Neptune, unlike the rest, was actually smirking a little. "I dunno, maybe that's what he's trying for. You've seen who he spends the most time with in this school, right? That profile of his fits someone else we know, doesn't it?"

"So you're saying he's just a kuudere?" Ren added. The table started getting out of the gloom left by Obaz.

"... What even is that?" Jaune wondered. Nora chuckled at him, though a few people seemed like-minded with the blonde. "Whatever it is, he won't be able to hang on to it for long if he stays friends with Ruby. Knowing her, she'll just keep saying 'nope' until he folds." He spoke from personal experience, but only Obaz would have known this were he still there.


	14. RSOL Reacts to Shipping (Interlude)

**Did someone say bonus info and rambling? Well, here you go.**

* * *

><p><strong>Resolve's Reaction to RWBY shippers<strong>

Weiss glared up at the title of the chapter as if it might change, face tightening in irritation as it sat unaffected and mocking. "Are we really doing one of these?"

Obaz himself sighed, but seemed less against the proceedings. "RWBY's fan base has become severely viral and memetic, and one of the most popular types of fan fiction are insertion of self-awareness, as well as access to fan content by the characters. Surely all of you have done this before, but this time I am merely along for the ride... though it disappoints me that the author gave in to such temptations." A solemn shake of his head, and the man typing these words shrank back from the keys in shame.

Yang shrugged, undaunted by these things. "I'm sure there's enough nonsense revolving around us by now if we're so 'viral'. What do our fans usually come up with?"

"Well, the most common sight is your fans' outgoing desires for certain characters to romantically come together. Oftentimes sexually."

Ruby grew the straight line of unhappiness Obaz normally wore like a medal. "Really? One of the first lines in this series was about how innocent I was."

"That in itself tempted fans to relentlessly try to drown that idea. One of the most popular ones involves you being a murderous psychopath... Rule one of fandom; change as much as possible to suit your whims. At least, that seems to be the golden rule for the majority of writers." He sounded bitter.

Blake laughed once under her breath, smirking at Obaz with amusement. "They can't possibly have that sort of opinion when they fantasize like that. And that argument is pretty redundant, considering this is a fan fiction itself. Is this your actual opinion, or the author throwing a fit through you?" The fourth wall is a fickle thing, and they were playing a bit too much with the holes punched through it. The conversation veered toward the original topic by will of the almighty;

"So, I take it Jaune is a very lucky man of many suitors according to the non-canon content?" Weiss said. If they had known prior what to expect, there would have been nothing to this chapter at all. Obaz frowned.

"That is one frequent occurrence, but his case is usually an inversely proportionate change to his skill and power." He paused. "They make him a badass. Just about every time, alongside drawing in the amorous interests of the entire female cast."

Yang thought about it for a second, nodding mildly. "I can see that, seeing as it's his only downside besides being oblivious to Pyrrha. He's pretty cute, too."

"Yang!" Ruby whined her name as if it would stop her from encouraging more stories of the girl and Jaune.

"What? He is." Was her only rebuttal.

Obaz pinched the bridge of his nose. "Of course he is. All of you are required to be aesthetically pleasing, so all of you have an easily inspired physical attraction between one another. Even among the same gender, which somehow grew to be more popular a hope than hetero relations."

"Does that mean someone will cook up a story about your hot and steamy love for Regis?" Yang commented with a grin. Obaz had never scowled so hard in his life.

"I, fortunately, am a mere figment of a fan myself; nothing noted that closely by others rowing boats with all of your names on them. In the off chance that it does happen, the author will likely view it as the greatest of flatteries as well as the most irritating of insults, and never acknowledge said fan again." That sounded rather specific for an assumption of what he may do.

Weiss returned to the conversation for the first time in a while; "When did we ever suggest any of us were lesbians?"

"Undertone of friendship was enough for imaginations to run wild. Hundreds if not thousands of accounts between the four of you float around this wonderful thing we call the internet... thus far, Ruby is paired mostly with Weiss, and Yang with Blake, though each possible connection has been explored by someone or another." All four of them looked confused.

"Yang and Blake hardly even shared any words between each other in the first volume..." Ruby commented.

"Guys, they made these ice cream Chips Ahoy!'s and they are soooooo good. Mint chocolate chip is like a party in my mouth, and everyone here is invited. 'sides Obaz of course. Stay out of my mouth, bro." Hank appeared with the box of mentioned cookies, munching away. They looked at him like he had stolen a kid's balloon. "You have no idea how often I'm actually going to make offhand remarks like this in the actual fic."

Yang ignored him, having come to an epiphany. "You mentioned that the author 'gave in to temptations'. Is that where our _Streetlight _thing came from?" Obaz actually laughed for a moment before nodding,

"It was done by request, as he actually mentioned in a footnote." The blonde began to fume about something she would soon forget about. Her teammates had no knowledge of the event, and likely never would. Obaz shook his head in surrender to the thought.

"There is a likelihood that upon next year's Valentine's Day, a second chapter will appear to aid that fleet. The Author seems fond of the idea of you and I together, despite refusing such a relationship to actually occur. The story itself is meant to be seen as something that could very well be happening during your actual show, without changing preordained events, so the most to be seen will be awkward dreams about one another, etc." Yang blinked, unsure of how to feel about that.

"Does that mean I'm his favorite?" She questioned. Obaz tilted his head in thought.

"I am tempted to say that his favorite would actually be _Junior._ Which must make it true. For what reasons, I couldn't say. As far as favorite _female cast member _goes, I believe he simply likes how your character and my own offset one another, using it as a catalyst to drive my story alongside your own. His actual favorite should be a tie between your sister and Ms. Goodwitch... though what you should fear is the far future, Yang."

Ruby held up her arms like she just won a vote or beauty pageant. Yang punched her in the arm, invoking a short-lived sibling fight. Hank watched this in mild amusement, dangling a cookie in front of Ruby while her sister held her back, torture for one such as the silver-eyed girl. Yang looked back at Obaz, still holding her sister in a full nelson. "What do you mean, 'what I should fear'?"

"Judging by how the story has progressed, it could go many ways, but between you and I there will always be consistent, borderline romance and mild rivalry. Whether this remains a friendly rivalry, or becomes something worse... remains to be seen." Yang frowned.

"I don't want to beat you up another fifty times just because you're a blockhead."

"Who says you will always win?" Obaz smirked, and she squinted.

Obaz moved on; "Fan excitement can rarely contain itself. Fanfiction centered on Velvet have appeared often enough despite her not having _any_ spoken lines, nor much to go on in regards to her personality other than one or two accounts of meekness within the school. Neo much the same; all she has done is bow to an audience and hold an umbrella as far as character development..."

"Again, there's an example of that in your story. You met with Velvet once, remember?" The Author requested that Blake stop being mean even though he was kind of asking for it.

"True, though the encounter was short and vague. I suppose that is the beauty of it; regardless of how the canon plot and characters turn out, fan-written content maintains the safety net of having been done by someone with no insight on the future of the series, and can't be expected to get everything right. Even my own Author takes these sorts of risks, as you said, but to a minimum; while some warp the entire series and events to fit their characters, my story is meant to compliment the canon series as an undertone of sorts." Obaz paused after the shameless bragging attempt. "Truth be told, in the plot's infancy I did not exist. Khiver was going to be the main character; Chapter 6 was intended to be Chapter 1."

Weiss didn't like mention of Chapter 6. "Can you even imagine how different the story so far would be if it were all about _that nut_?..."

"We'd have to file it under Adventure-Humor or something." Hank said, finally letting Ruby have a cookie. She seemed delighted with them, and soon started giving the green-haired teen puppy-dog eyes in hopes of another.

Yang folded her arms. "I doubt he could've filled your role, Obaz. Was the plot much different to begin with?"

"Very. Khiver was simply a wanderer with an appetite for violence, the bottom line being an acquisition of civility from interactions with the canon cast. There was a possibility of a relationship with Ms. Goodwitch, much like the one you and I share. Omeghis, Hank, myself, were not involved; It was only he and Shmots, with a less complicated but still somewhat intriguing story." The thought of Khiver and Glynda having some awkward affection seemed to have the girls and Hank shudder, even if it was doomed to the same fate as Yang and Obaz' stalemate.

Hank glanced over from getting Ruby to balance Crescent Rose on her chin for a cookie. "I can't even describe how funny it was when _Streetlight _suddenly happened, but I gotta admit, somehow it got funnier with this new _Playwright _thing."

"_Playwright?_" Blake questioned. Obaz facepalmed.

"In the XTRA just prior to this one, my comment and complimenting of Nora Valkyrie started another ship. _Playwright_ is used to describe the contrast of our characters, like the masks used in old greek drama depicting happiness and sadness. _Streetlight _was meant to describe the state of cold, solemn chrome reaching up to the only warmth and light in its life while simultaneously being certain it stays high above, where it belongs. the advent of _Playwright _is likely where this chapter drew its inspiration..." These were the things that fans came up with, almost word-for-word how it was pitched to the Author. How could one even argue something with that much thought put in? How does one even refuse shipping?

Weiss gave a look of bewilderment. "That was all it took to start another ship... in your _fanfiction?_"

"We went over this... It does not take much. Now once is a rarity, twice is a coincidence... three is a pattern. These ships are all rather harmless, seeing as no content is derived from it... yet."

If this goes on, is anyone safe?


	15. Dance Dance Agitation (Ch 37-B)

**Dance Dance Agitation**

"Well, you seem to be enjoying yourself. Thanks for telling me you're feeling better..." Yang said sarcastically. Obaz frowned, pocketing the scroll Emerald had tossed back to him after they had shared a dance. Either Yang had conveniently missed just that part, or thought they'd exchanged them for different reasons. This little event just kept getting better.

"Of what comes to mind, 'Enjoying' is not a term I would use."

She scoffed. "Okay, then, sum that up for me, would you?"

"Uncomfortable." He said without hesitation.

While Yang glared at him for the statement, refusing to break eye contact, Obaz fidgeted. He could not will his hands to hold still, even in his pockets. His heart rate was above normal beats per minute. There was a churning in his stomach that felt like someone stirring the insides without care for order. A sweat broke out at his palms and on the back of his neck, and he could not look away from the vibrant pair of eyes she had. However, he had a separate explanation for each of these things that had nothing to do with his own personal state when in sight of Yang, therefore he could –albeit, with difficulty –believe that he was not romantically taken by the blonde, and would continue to. When he went to respond, he was finally struck with an issue.

He stuttered.

"Th-that was not..."

With this one miniscule mistake, Obaz knew for a fact that he loved this girl. Not a single comprehensible explanation could be given for this blunder in his speech; he could pause mid-sentence to think, but his very thought process falling a step back like this had not once happened to Obaz before. The clarity with which he conveyed his meaning to another had always been solid, complete...

The only possible reason for his mind's efficiency to falter, to him, was that Yang Xiao Long was making him stupid.

" 'That wasn't what it looked like'? Is that what you're trying to say?" Yang challenged. He still had no concrete evidence of Emerald's involvement in what team _Rwby _was dealing with, so he was against telling her what had actually transpired, but that hardly helped him here. As long as he tried to jump past the event itself, he wouldn't have to lie about it.

"That was not my intention when dragged into a dance with that girl. It was not my idea, n-... nor did I expect it to happen." He was still floundering a bit as he spoke. Why was she angry, anyway? This seemed like the type of thing she would pat him on the back for.

As Yang glared at him some more, he retook his position at the punch table, glaring back out of his peripheral vision. The blonde opened her mouth for a second before she actually said anything; "Where do you come off giving me that look?"

"What look?" He asked. She humorlessly smiled.

"_That _look. Like I'm trying to scheme a way to ruin your life." He frowned, and she rolled her eyes emphatically. "Seriously, it's like frowning is all you know how to do with that face. It'll get stuck that way, you know."

"Common misconception. The muscles will ease more to that shape over time, but will not get 'stuck'. Further –..." He fell short, as she was clearly unimpressed with fact time. "Cutting to the chase, I know you are not scheming ways to ruin my life. You will simply end up doing these things, regardless of prior planning."

"What?!" Yang fumed. "You can't tell me you actually believe that!"

Now that it was an argument well beyond what she was originally mad about, he was getting his equilibrium back. "Relations with others inevitably lead to drama and altercations, like this one. It is a facet of friendship that is more memorable than enjoyment of one another's company. You will concede to this later, when it becomes hard for you to recall any good times we have had as opposed to now."

She paused like she had before. Arguing with her friends was one thing, but arguing with Obaz was always like a professional debate, and she just didn't have any more time to waste on this when the night was still young. She gave him a dismissive gesture, done with the fruitless bickering. "Enjoy the rest of the dance, Obaz."

"Unlikely..." He murmured, watching her depart to find a dance partner. Staring any further would only irritate him once she picked someone to hold onto, so he promptly sat down, plunking his head on the table and taking another cheese cube. This could only last so long, since he would undoubtedly be scanning the crowd for her –against his will –once lifting his head.

He listened to a familiar voice laugh directly in front of him, raising his arms without actually moving his head in order to serve a drink. It was an awkward-looking act, yet he didn't spill a drop. "It seems you are better surviving this dance than I, despite your previous abjectness."

"You're exaggerating, but... it's true. I'm liking this a lot more than I thought I would." Blake sipped the punch offered, watching Sun try to teach Neptune how to dance, oblivious of the looks they were getting. It was his teammate, thus his responsibility to 'un-dork' Neptune, he'd said. "So. Getting anywhere in your stakeout?"

"Metaphorically, I have been cracking my skull on impact with a brick wall. The actions of several parched students..." He paused to also tip his hand toward Yang discretely. "...and a certain blonde, squandered the night's opportunity."

"That's a shame. You could always tell me who to watch out for?"

"You squandered that opportunity yourself. I do not... erm..." He saw golden locks swish past out of the corner of his eye. "I don't give out freebies."

Blake stared down at his still-prostrated head, wondering where the shift in speech had come from. She dropped the curiosity just as fast; "About that. I can't say you were wrong after that fight was over, but weren't you being a hypocrite? You said yourself; I looked like you do when I was all... worn out."

"You chose not to sleep; I have no choice. The closest I can get is idling with my eyes closed, which I do. Laera seems to think I am a gargoyle of some kind, whose pedestal is my desk." Blake nodded some understanding, finding insomnia explained a lot, as much as it didn't surprise her. Laera's joke sat well with her, though, as she realized in thinking about it that his position sitting was normally hunched with his arms draped; very gargoyle-like.

"It could be something's missing. Ruby can't sleep unless she has her eye-mask."

Obaz considered it. "I could experiment, but I would need to retrieve my bed from storage."

Blake laughed again, and Sun literally threw Neptune at the floor seeing Blake wave him in for another dance with her. "Good luck with that, then. Enjoy the rest of the dance."

"Still unlikely, but thank you." Obaz echoed, letting the Faunus continue getting the most out of her break from exerting herself.

* * *

><p>"Did you just grope that guy's ass?" Mercury asked, without a hint of tact when Emerald returned. She looked ready to tear out his kidney.<p>

"Of course not. Pickpocketing is hard to do if you don't pick a pocket, and I tried the rest." He made a face like that was the most profound thing he'd ever heard, and she rolled her eyes, much like the blonde speaking with her recent dance partner.

Mercury chuckled. "We're not here to make friends, you know. Somebody has a crush?"

"You know that feeling you get, when you start talking to someone, and you can tell almost right away that you share similar interests?" He gave her a confused look, mainly because she hadn't denied his statement. She went on; "All the kids here just do what they're told, but Obaz kinda seems like... all his ties can be cut, if we give him the right reason."

The expression on Mercury's face deepened to further bewilderment. "What, you want to recruit the guy?"

"I wouldn't say that. More like use, but it could turn out that way." Even if she hadn't intended to refute his joke from before, that statement may as well have. Emerald thought for a moment. "It'd be up to Cinder in the long run."

"Somehow, we're not here to make friends, but you're thinking about doing the next closest thing." Emerald smirked knowingly.

"I'm not the only one. Cinder _has _been looking into those names he gave her, right?"


	16. Asking for Trouble (OC Cameo 1-A)

**|So I have come to enjoy a few OCs out there, and Auburn Perrault is definitely one of them. I had this in the works for a while now, and finally found the time to put it together with the blessings of the creator of course. There might wind up being one or two more where this came from, but not entirely sure yet. Auburn Perrault, Reeno Umber and Vladimir Hatter are all original characters created by Aundreya Garcia and not me, by the by, and can be found in detail on deviantArt under the pen name hearts-and-pins (there's also a facebook page for it too). Shoutout to Aundreya for being extra chill. - ****Aldiev|**

* * *

><p><strong>Asking for Trouble<strong>

She was roughly an inch taller than he, but a few pounds lighter; estimated between one-forty and one-fifty, while he was just above that weight. A third year, making her far more practiced in combat, and a Faunus who had likely seen her fair share of untoward fighting; street brawling tactics, dirty tricks and the like wouldn't come as a surprise. Her heightened sense of hearing and her tail were also to be taken into account. He doubted the pointed, predatory canine teeth would actually come into play; she didn't look like a biter to Obaz, more prone to wearing her racial pride like a medal, meaning she wasn't likely to use less civil or dishonorable means to subdue an opponent. That was actually somewhat disappointing –he'd sometimes wondered about the bite force limitations of a Faunus compared to that of animals or Grimm...

Spiked endcaps to the feet, though not impressively so –just a bonus. Armored most excessively at the front of the torso, shins, and forearms, he should be aiming for the shows of skin at the biceps and upper chest area. Her weapons were that of a swift and versatile melee fighter; _Dual Hounds, _steel gauntlets with clawed fingers and spiked knuckles. Her left arm was more fortified than the other, both defensively by the plating and offensively by the gun barrel situated near the wrist. Whatever she could fire was a somewhat smaller caliber, but the positioning made it a perfect point-blank supplement to strikes by that hand. Attacks from her left could be expected as punches more often than not, while the right would consist prominently of raking nails. Both would be painful from either, if her lean build had anything to say about it.

Obaz grimaced, almost solely to counteract the confident smirk on the face of one Auburn Perrault, his opponent at present. He was reminded of Yang, not by her demeanor per se but by her choice in apparel; no combat skirt to be seen, mostly fashionable but fit to allow her free movement. They were also similarly... endowed, which he could expect to hinder her about as much as it did the blonde; little to none, somehow. Under and around the silver glints of armor were a scarlet red top, separate sleeves, and white pants, with a garterbelt holding a pouch –for ammunition most likely –and brown boots. Her hair was a smoky gray spilling down behind her to just above the waist, reminiscent of the wolves her Faunus heritage seemed to stem from. A long tail swept back and forth behind her, tipped with whiter fur much like the ears perked up atop her head.

He wasn't the only one sizing up the enemy; her gaze flickered between the briefcase-like _Prophet_ left of his waist, the folded form of _Pariah _which could be glimpsed peeking out from behind him, and the bulky frame of _Purgatory _slung over his shoulder. Auburn looked to be hardly armed at all; Obaz, on the other hand, carried a small arsenal to battle when capable.

The matter of why he was facing down a third-year student in the west wing's arena could be summed up rather fast; she thought he was a colossal prick in need of an attitude adjustment. Obaz couldn't say it was the first time that opinion had come to develop, and he was notorious for awful first impressions. This one, however, wasn't as much a 'first' impression as it was the culmination of numerous little encounters he hadn't cared much about;

The first time they had ever actually seen one another was when she was arguing with another upperclassman of his, one that may as well have turned his prejudiced thoughts on Faunus rights into a stage play with how openly and elaborately he belittled any with ear, horn or tail out of place. The dialogue between them had escalated to a point where one would likely have assaulted the other within moments, but Obaz had gotten tired of listening and interjected;

"Quit beating a dead horse, would you please? If stubbornness such as the two of yours' could be remedied by a quick, heated discussion, we would not have race wars. Save your breath for words that actually matter." She had started to ask him what his problem was when he chose to simply get up and walk away, and as expected they picked up where they left off, as people always did when they were convinced of being undoubtedly right. Over the next few weeks, there had been two other cases where they had briefly crossed paths, and while she made an attempt at quick smalltalk or an introduction he ignored her. There was no need to know her at all, as this occasional hallway passing was the most they ever got to see of one another between their differing classes, missions and use of free time. Only now did he realize she probably took it as an oppressive silence –an attempt to pretend the 'lowly Faunus minority' simply wasn't there.

Today, he had been explaining to his teammates; "... Humanity is not entirely at fault for Faunus abuse; they are a race of people, filled with the kind and the cruel. Faunus are no different; they simply have Human cruelty as an excuse to justify their own." To their table had come the girl in question, having overheard, and that had been the final straw. He and Auburn bickered over this for a time before one of her own teammates suggested a duel, to settle it in the ring. Obaz' agreement to it had been in the interest of getting it over with already.

At a glance these few events weren't much; but strung together, they had grown into what was now reasonably high disdain from Auburn –you reap what you sow, as they said, and he wasn't exactly friendly. Even still, it was as if the only solution to any problem between the females of this academy and himself had to be getting soundly thrashed by them... and in this case, the likelihood that the pattern would change to his favor was low. He scowled again, though he believed the experience gleaned off this encounter would serve him well in the future.

"Ready?" She asked. Her voice had a commanding air to it, unintentionally from what he could tell, and carried far. The tone of a leader, direct and purposeful, her femininity still came through in the pitch but if anything strengthened that authority.

Obaz took Purgatory into his hands first; being the heaviest of his weapons, he would abandon it given she was too fast to keep within a favorable range. Swapping it into blade form, the enormous straight razor was hefted into position across his shoulders. "Yes."

She broke from stillness to full sprint in the blink of an eye, and she was so much faster than he anticipated that he hadn't even the time to take a full swing –he managed to get the blade between them and pull the trigger for gouts of heated steam to spray her arm with claw outstretched. Not what she expected, the burning mist she was in startled her enough to give Obaz the split second needed, tilting the blade after and getting the flat against the metal nails she was trying to slash him with. Inevitably, her left hand circled the blade as she slipped to that side, getting three thin cuts up the side of his arm. She led into a high kick, one Obaz freed a hand in order to stop with his forearm, and she used the position to bring back her left hand now and come forward with a quick jab. It took him in the ribs, and a shot was fired on impact, a burst of fire dust that singed him through his clothing. They split apart, a momentary stare down; _Purgatory's _function was now obvious, and he had just learned that making a strike was the trigger mechanism itself for her left gauntlet; before, he thought she could fire on him from further, but the gun in her left was entirely supporting close-quarters combat. Her right hand was quicker with less weight, but her left was much more dangerous to take a hit from.

Reeno Umber, the teammate of Auburn's who had suggested this alternative, grunted when the steam took place but a smirk crossed his face seeing Obaz get punched in the ribs. Reeno was a large man, a Faunus of very subtle Rhinoceros descent –and by subtle, that was actually two horns protruding from his face, and his entire body being rough and gray. The only thing that could have made this situation worse would be to fight her whole team, because by appearances alone he could tell; Reeno was a brick shithouse he simply did not want to tangle with. Still in his uniform that looked like it would tear if he so much as flexed, he continued to enjoy the fight next to Sophia, the only member of Obaz' team who had been able to come along and watch this after lunch; the others had business to attend. They kept a decent distance between them both. "What do you think? I would bet he lasts a few more minutes."

"She is playing a little more than need be..." The distance between Sophia and Vladimir Hatter, however, was smaller, as this other present member of Auburn's team was leaning somewhat close to her in comparison to his moody friend. His blonde hair flecked with purple at one side was odd to her, but his dual-hued eyes were a little mesmerizing. He smiled, and she kept her eyes off him with more fervor, ignoring the way he playfully tipped the tophat on his head. "You look worried. No faith in your teammate?"

"... He likes to bite off more than he can chew." She said after a minute. That sounded like a fair assumption, even with this being the only testament to it for the members of _PYRH_.

She smiled, he grimaced. She took a swipe, he narrowly dodged. They were dancing around one another, and he was doing it far less gracefully than the wolf as she bared her fangs in amusement. The size of _Purgatory _and weight to counteract with controlled bursts of steam had quickly become predictable to her, and soon it was altogether useless against the speedy Faunus, so he simply let go of it on swinging at her a last time. Sidestepping the whirling mass of sharp metal, her eyes widened for a moment as it flew by, her stance tightening again as he unfurled _Pariah _from the position behind his waist. Using it in the short sword form for the time being, the faster strikes and closed in space between them was a more comfortable zone for Auburn, but the sudden change in style allowed him to get past some of her attempts to parry the blade, knicking her leg and cheek. She responded with leaving four gashes across his collarbone, batting his sword arm away for two quick punches with her left; one in the chest, and a crashing hook to the jaw that both combusted with a flair of red. He was knocked sprawling onto his hands and knees, panting, but getting into a defensive crouch quickly enough to keep a foot from colliding with his head.

"What's the matter? Not as easy as you thought it'd be, is it?" Obaz shook off the momentary dizziness brought on from the kick, even though he'd stopped it.

"I never expected to win... I just wanted the data." She gave him a quizzical look, and he shifted Pariah into flamberge form, sheathing the weapon through _Prophet _at his side and washing the blade in a blue, cascading glow once bringing it back out. Coming up on her, he made a series of angled slashes at her upper torso, and as she defended against each with her gauntlets she winced as the radiation along _Pariah _sent a jolt of static through her armor, stinging her arms. This would have numbed them completely at the rate he had her on her guard, but a shield projected off of her left; it was a translucent, relatively small shield of kite shape, and as it stopped actual physical contact the electric shocks swept over it momentarily before dying out. That leftmost weapon of hers really was handy...

He tried to swing low for where she may not be able to block with the auric shield, but she anticipated him and jumped, twisting for a swift kick to the back of his head. Stumbling, Obaz slapped a claw aside and let the second rend his shoulder in order to get close; they were neck and neck, and he held the hand currently dug into his shoulder while slamming his shoulder into her stomach, dipping into a crouch to get her onto his shoulders and lift her up fireman style. Tearing the claw out of his shoulder, he swung her by the wrist and rolled his opposite shoulder to hurl her like a rag doll into the floor of the arena –Auburn landed on her feet and one hand, and swung Obaz around in retaliation in the same manoeuvre. He managed a clumsy catch with just his feet, and yanked on her wrist again to curl her arm around him, aiming to drive the tip of his blade at her bosom.

Clutching the sword with her free left, the steel of her claws sparked and she grit her teeth with the pain of the shocks wracking her arm. She held the blade at bay, Obaz pulling hard to see if she might fold and take the hit. Instead, she growled, and pushed it to the side, letting it pass by her neck and drawing a knee up into her opponent's gut. Another grimace formed in his expression, and he dropped _Pariah _to grab the back of her neck, whacking her in the nose with his forehead.

Auburn reeled back, both releasing the other. Obaz kicked at _Purgatory _which was closer to him on the floor, getting it back into his hands. This time, when he tried to take her head off he held the weapon backwards; the steam jets propelling the weapon as he held it far from him, making his reach ludicrous and swing speed high. He couldn't, on the other hand, counter the force without the assistance that was now propelling it and had to make very wide arcs, leaving him open for her to dive in and take a pot shot out on his torso or legs. This kept up until he landed a blow just once, and she projected that shield again, standing her ground but cracking the floor beneath her feet with the pressure.

It all happened so fast he could hardly even follow; she dropped the shield, moving lithely to the right and letting _Purgatory_ fall to where she had been standing. She gave his arm a roundhouse kick at the wrist, tossing it up and away from the grip of his blade, delivering a trio of wild claw slashes to his abdomen. An explosive punch to the stomach again, and a rising right fist to the chin, that she threw to pass his head in order to grab it and halt his flight up; as she landed back on her feet, she braced her left gauntlet against her collar and drove his face down on it with the force of the drop and her own strength. With a swatting motion, she hurled him back off and watched him somehow try to keep balance, winding up on his knees.

"His Aura's red now. Auburn wins." Vladimir shouted the result without much enthusiasm. Getting shakily to his feet, Obaz kept an eye shut as blood ran down from just above it. His shirt was also in tatters, the black smeared with red that it could hardly hide.

As the combat high took a bow from their systems, Auburn noticed these things and walked up to see if he was actually alright. The blonde girl that had come along with him was feverishly looking over them much to his dismay, and soon she backed up, reprimanding the boy. He merely shrugged, turning his attention to the winner. "Congratulations."

"Er... thanks." Reeno had gotten up and looked as if he chose to stand just outside the door, mumbling something about unwarranted sympathy. She looked at Obaz again, and felt like this hadn't actually solved a whole lot after everything was said and done.

"Just clear up the misunderstanding, you ass! It's not hard! Just tell her that you don't hate Faunus!" Sophia continued to chastise, and he scowled at his teammate, seeing the reaction this elicited from Auburn.

The woman who just mopped the floor with him crossed her arms, tail swishing. "Why didn't you just say that in the first place?"

"Because I do not like Faunus. I just do not consider them any worse than human beings... both are equally capable of wrongdoings." He paused. "Individuals such as yourself are in fact rare amongst your many kinds, and those like Sophia here are rare amongst ours. It is a sad fact."

Vladimir glanced between them, seeing Auburn's gears turning. He chuckled a bit. "So he's just a cynic. I guess that's problem solved!" He laughed again, lethargically getting out of his seat to go find the much bulkier ally that left prior. Obaz made sure his wounds were scabbing over with his lacking regeneration from aura, and once seeing they had begun to made to leave as well.

"I can prove you wrong, you know." She called after him as she caught up. Sophia was close behind, but after getting a message from Laera, bid Obaz a hasty farewell and headed off at a faster pace. Obaz and Auburn, the only ones wearing their combat gear, headed to the locker rooms.

Obaz glanced up on that very slight angle needed to make eye contact. "I welcome that attempt."

"I probably won't have to beat you to a pulp next time, either."

"... bite me." He groused. She did as requested, sinking teeth into his shoulder like it was a shiny apple. "GAH!"

He gave her a hard glare, and she wiped a trace of red from her lips withe the back of her hand, grinning mischievously. "You asked for it."

Obaz pinched the bridge of his nose, and walked into the men's lockers. Auburn continued on to the women's, the smile still present. For such a serious guy, he was a lot of fun to pick on...


	17. Spar 3 (Ch 38-B)

**Combat Class Sparring, Pt. 3**

"Alright, kiddies, listen up. It's high time we whipped some more competence into ya's, so we're gonna have that occasional lil' fight between ya both. No whinin' this time, guys." Khiver was leaning against the side of their most recent stolen vehicle, the one they hadn't quite figured out yet, which they had parked out of town in the mild cover of a junkyard that once belonged to some gang. The Atlesian Paladins had been stashed elsewhere in their haste to escape, but now that they had gotten past the lock on this one, they wanted some fresh air and a place to fiddle with the enigmatic machine. He was talking to Hank and Shmots of course; they eyed one another, knowing the gap in their skills was still a large one. Hank gestured to Shmots before he began a rebuttal;

"Maybe he needs the workout, but I trained at Beacon. Sure, it was only for about a year –but that's better than whatever this guy ever did. You said yourself he had no real combat experience before a few months ago, right? This is just so you can get out of training him yourself, isn't it?" Khiver nodded humbly, as if that were no selfish act in the slightest.

"Doesn't matter if he's got nothin' to his name quite yet; you've got more to gain from these scraps than you think. Get him, Shmots." Shmots got to his feet and extended his stun rod, prepared to follow the man's orders regardless of his opponent's willingness to participate.

Hank faced toward the eager challenger with skepticism. "Dude? Is it second nature for you to be 's bitch or what?" Hank had been told what his employer's name was, but knew from experience why some would neglect to mention, so continued using a self-imposed alias in reference to Khiver. Shmots swung the rod at Hank's temple, which the boy ducked to avoid, but the action had provoked him into taking up arms; Hank's spear, _Goethe,_ was in hand, his shield _Vermin _was ready. The spear itself hadn't been extended, likely because he knew this fight would be up close more often than not, but in its shrunken state with the hooks flat between the four spear edges it would serve more like an awkwardly shaped mixture of a mace and short sword.

Khiver laughed aloud while planting his hands on the vehicle, flinging himself up to sit cross-legged atop the vehicle. Shmots and Hank circled each other warily, and despite his boasting Hank knew this wasn't like fighting against a complete amateur; Khiver had taught what little he had to Shmots well, and the mute's equipment was well accustomed to breaching his own –one could hardly block flexible wires or electricity with a metal shield. That said, Hank thought twice and set his shield aside, against the passenger-side door.

Shmots' stun rod drew up short by about half an inch when Hank reared back, narrowly avoiding this second attempt at his head. He dipped left as the wired glove tried to ensnare him; from the slots dispersing the wires under the base knuckles of the hand, he could tell the trajectory of each by the way Shmots spread his fingers; however, there would always be a mild blind spot in the angle between his thumb and forefinger, as that knuckle couldn't be lined up with the rest. As the boy let his strings reel back in, Hank took the opportunity to close the short distance and take a swing of his own, batting him in the chest and throwing him back a ways. Shmots held his footing, getting into a more cautious stance.

Much like Obaz' _Pariah, _Shmots' stun rod was to be avoided at all costs, and not blocked or parried lest you wanted to be electrocuted –but trying to attack Shmots tempted him to parry or block to get the same result. Hank got close again, aiming low to trip him up and keep from striking what he shouldn't. Shmots backed up and took a swing at Hank's skull again, being the prime target for the non-lethal blunt instrument. Neither scored a hit on the other for a time, and the air between them shifted greatly from rends of their near misses.

"Hit him with the shocky part! Stick 'im with the pointy end! DANCE, MY PUPPETS! AHAHAHA!" Khiver whooped and hollered at them obnoxiously, like some kind of sports fan whose two favorite teams were competing. They both ignored him, as Shmots managed to touch the metal of Hank's weapon, sending a shock up the boy's arm and leaving him open. He was struck in the jaw, but Hank recovered into an upward swing that caught his opponent under the arm. He would have hit him in the chin to knock him on his ass, but they had to be careful about Shmots' mask and goggles that could kill him if they were rattled too much.

As he slunk left, Hank's aura flashed green and he spent much quicker jabs, nailing him in the right leg, then from the left in the ribs, and right again on the shoulder. The opposing forces of the blows caused Shmots to lose his balance, and the last one threw him off his feet. Hank extended his spear to try to land a stab to the grounded opponent without having to give chase quite yet, but the enigma rolled further from his landing point to escape the range, doing his best to scramble to his feet. Hank lunged for him, leaping forward and shrinking _Goethe _again to give a brutal overhead swing to the top of Shmots' head from midair. Fortunately, he was able to keep his face from smashing into the ground using his hands, but he looked up at Hank while making an irritated gesture. Hank apologized before kicking him in the side.

Shmots fell to rolling aside again in order to evade a spearhead, coming to a kneel this time and entangling the _Goethe_ with his wires. Alternating between tugging Hank his way and trying to smack him in the temple with the stun rod, this tug-of-war lasted until Hank caught him by the wrist and twisted, turning the boy around and circling his own wires around him. A kick to the back of his knee, and Shmots was down again, tied up and disarmed.

"Nice try, though." Hank said as he took the strings off his spear's head. Glancing to Khiver's persh out of the corner of his eye, he though it strange that the man had stopped commentating; this was because he was gone... hank went to pick up _Vermin, _while also calling for his boss, only to have one of the two hexagonal plates on their new ride pop out and slam into his face.

Hank was thrown a few feet onto his back, harshly sliding over the dirt and hitting a pile of hubcaps. Shmots pointed and soundlessly laughed as Khiver's voice came from within the vehicle; "SPANK! I made it do somethin'!"

"I can see that, dickhead!" Hank rubbed his face, feeling a black eye coming on. "Stop touching shit until we know what –!" He was cut off as the space between the plates and vehicle itself spouted three long gun barrels each, flanking the sides and firing consecutive rounds through the piles of junk directly ahead. The scrapped metals were torn to shreds as the rounds passed through.

A loud burst of laughter came from the vehicle. "Are you seeing this?! I love it! It's absolutely top!"

"Oh my god, stop talking and start the engine! You're gonna alert the whole continent!" Hank said once the gunfire stopped shattering his eardrums, tossing Shmots into the back as he was still tied up from his loss. Climbing into the passenger seat, he saw Khiver's shark-toothed grin was manic with delight.

"I can make 'em adjust X and Y axes, separately or together! Look'it how nifty this is!" He used joysticks on the steering wheel to change the vertical and horizontal angle either set of guns were on; he could fire straight up, and as far to the sides as the thick plates would allow them. The aim could also be focused inward, so that all six barrels had their sights cross over a single target. "I'm gonna give it cool flames, and a dashboard bobblehead, and a little Ms. Gumwatch antenna! Every time I pull the trigger, all my ornaments will rock out!"

"Dude, I'm pretty sure the whole city heard those shots. We have to go back to the hideout." Hank paused. "We're not stopping for your goddamn ornaments either."

"You can't tell me what to do! You're not my real mom!" Khiver whined nonsensically, but put the vehicle in drive and tore out of the junkyard. They could hear Atlesian airships en route, as Hank suspected they might; he had never heard guns quite as loud as those on this thing. He looked out the back window, seeing the airships veer off and entirely give up the chase for now as soon as Khiver pointed the guns at them, backwards.

"This thing is so anti-air that you scared their whole flock of scouts back home... We're packing some serious firepower." Khiver smirked.

"Music to my ears... So where are we going again?"

Hank slapped a hand to his forehead. "The place on Veltro street. The only spot we can stash stuff this big, remember?"

"Right, right. Hang onto your butts; we're gonna see what kinda speed we can hit with this baby." Hank clung to his seat as Khiver recklessly drove around, getting lost twice and having to correct course thrice upon encountering resistance.

The bound and still-gagged Shmots bounced around the back, unable to voice his plight.


	18. Osem Peaks, Part 0 (Ch 43-B)

**Osem Peaks, Part 0**

Containing Grimm was tricky business, because the only way to do it was give the impression that you were not. It was simple to get most Grimm into a cage, but if you kept them there for long enough, they would realize that they could not escape and simply die. Whether it was actually some epiphany, a reaction to manmade material they would normally destroy but couldn't in this instance, or some other reason, to keep a Grimm alive meant one thing that no one would consider worth the effort; periodic releases.

Simply put, much like a minimum security prison, the Grimm needed recess. They needed to stretch their legs, and be given the impression that they have freedom long enough for the next push back into containment doesn't cause them to 'give up' as it were. Lack of understanding to the true reason they died in captivity made this less than foolproof, but the gains outweighed the losses... that is, in the eyes of _Idavollr_, they did. The numbers would be madness to anyone else.

As, to be certain the Grimm were kept satisfied, they sacrificed people.

Between the homeless and their own members willing to take the plunge, these Grimm were far from starved. Transport was difficult in comparison, but once here at the Osem facility, a controlled and permanent residence was achievable. _The Chalice_ was even better than this place, but ultimately, Osem was a benchmark to their progress. The research they had been able to do on Grimm hierarchy, stages of development, and instinctual changes in tandem with age was the kind Hunters dreamed of knowing. As long as Zalarex drew breath, none of it would leave the hands of their esteemed brothers and sisters.

The recent tunnelling from here had been to get under Vale at a point, boring into the aqueducts and sewage systems, but they accidentally convened with White Fang subways coming from Mountain Glenn –the Faunus activists had been of like mind, as it turned out, which was quite a shame. This had spelled the end of their precious haven, as it was only a matter of time before the White Fang made a move through those tunnels, and if anyone traced back the ones made from Osem this place would be found out. Unlike the White Fang, the one advantage _Idavollr _wished to hang on to was the appearance of a small and harmless group. Just some screws loose on these few dozen folks, nothing to see here.

They had built one last exit taking them around Vale, headed close to _the Chalice, _once sure they wouldn't be crashing any parties this time to smuggle what they could from here before gutting it. They would have to do a better job here than the improvised escape from the Darkmire; that had been bad enough, but this was an operation of a scale attracting even more attention. One more slip of such magnitude, and the many forces of law and justice would stop at nothing to uproot their faith from the foundation of this civilized world.

The vast majority of Grimm that hadn't been found here to begin with were now gone, and the rest would be released back to the habitat outside, but Zalarex still had to move their remaining VIGs; Barong and Forseti. Locating and obtaining the rare Forseti and violent Barong were feats only Father Sethiker was capable of, there was no doubt in his mind, the inner circle only playing a small part in the acts as well as overseeing shipment. That was he and Sister Coral's purpose, here and now –showing the important guests a good ride out.

The repurposed equipment left over from the refinery this facility was built out of had been just as useful getting the Grimm out as it had been bringing them in. Back conveyors, forklifts, palette jacks, pulley systems, everything the refinery once needed to shift around heavy product from the mines now allowed _Idavollr _to move the very beings responsible for this place's abandonment. It was actually amusing to Zalarex, how the workers had initially come in from below and come up too high, tempting the Grimm above to dig. It was like a bunch of termites burrowing into the stump sitting right under an anteater.

These were all plans he had made some time ago, but he was waiting for acknowledgement from the Father, which would come by messenger. That messenger finally arrived after the two-day wait today, and the scrawny Faunus of some vermin descent rushed out of the elevator upon reaching the twentieth floor, over to the round table at the center of the room bearing the maps of this mountain in much better condition. "Sir, you have the go-ahead from Father Sethiker, but I'm afraid I have more news."

Coral, sitting near the Grimm cells' master control, gave him an intrigued look from those strangely white eyes of hers. Zalarex, standing next to the table himself, set one of his huge hands down gently onto the map nearest him. "Speak, then."

The man's eyes darted every-which-way for a moment, and he took that time to both catch his breath and best summarize what needed to be said. "An Omeghis Corp. cargo plane accidentally dropped a series of packages as it shot over the Osem Peaks. Scouts are reporting GPDs, OTAF forces will probably be here to take them back in a matter of hours. This was sent with me from the Father, for your eyes only."

That explained the minor tremors rocking the facility not long ago... A manila envelope, wax-stamped seal and everything, was handed to Zalarex who took it between finger and thumb. He broke the seal, opening the contents as he was facing the two present, the print not visible to either. He slowly formed a scowl. "You, tell EVERYONE to pack up and move out from bay area one-thirty-six, and refer the permission to the squads stationed at tunnel points. We're leaving, now."

"But the elevator just left –"

"Take the damn ramps, then! Get to it!" Jumping almost into the ceiling, the flighty Faunus scurried off from here, Zalarex turning to face Coral. "You and I are moving the VIGs to the _Chalice _through serviceway one-twenty, area B. Father Sethiker guarantees Hunters inbound with Omeghis spies mixed in..."

Coral stood from her seat, taking her weapon from the place she had it leaning against the wall. "We've been found out?!"

"Unrelated incident, but we'll be uncovered regardless; the White Fang had their hand forced at Mountain Glenn. Time is of the essence... we will be destroying all tunnels leading from here, which is why we need to move the Barong and Forseti first. Hunters will be here come noon, maybe a bit later, and Omeghis will be sending suit runners in to salvage lost cargo before long." She was taken aback by the plans he'd been keeping to himself.

"Sealing the tunnels we've so painstakingly extended is madness! This is multi-year progress we're talking about!"

Zalarex set his other hand of the two on the table, giving her his full attention. She took back her apprehensive expression, knowing he was the higher rank here. "We've already made enough blunders running into the branches from the White Fang coming from Mountain Glenn –any further and we could have been looking at an actual feud, regardless. We escape through these tunnels, collapse them, and return to Osem if activity here dies down. Chancing Hunters and Omeghis finding the routes from here is the real madness... or do you forget what we have other than Grimm?"

In defeat, she glowered at the floor. "Father Sethiker has approved of this?"

"I wouldn't be explaining it to you otherwise." Zalarex countered in irritation.

All she could do was accept it and move on. "What of the Grimm we can't take with us?"

"We release them once we've sealed our escape. There are plenty of Grimm above us –having more inside the mountain will hardly change things. In fact, it will make this place even more hazardous to Hunters who come with no foreknowledge." He grinned at the thought of people stumbling down here only to find an unusual nest of Grimm waiting to swallow them up. It was when they went to take care of the tasks just discussed that they found the3 first dilemma that was out of place...

A young blonde fellow armed with several weapons and looked stained with the leftovers of old wounds was quickly attempting to make the elevator move from here, and Zalarex trudged over to stop the very machine from moving, trying to haul it back down with intruder in tow. Coral fired on the boy, but rather than fire back he took shots at the one pinning him to this floor, forcing Zalarex to release it. What disturbed him as it vanished from sight was the familiarity; that occupant had been one of the same Hunters from the video data sent from the Darkmire.

What were the chances that this young man came upon two of their locations by mistake?

Coral'S voice knocked him out of his thoughts, as well as his stare directed above them. "Who the hell was that? It's not like we have a bring-your-kid-to-work-day..."

"We were just leaving, anyway." The man strode calmly to their shoddily constructed control center, flicking switches all along the machine. The woman behind him gave him a dirty look.

"Brother Zalarex, we still have men down there."

"I know, Sister Coral. They will be remembered fondly." The last he set to off, Coral grabbed his arm to stop him one moment too late.

"That switch was –"

Zalarex glared down at her hand, which soon let him go. "The Barong, yes. We have another at the Chalice, and if need be I'll retrieve one more at a later time... Come help me take the Forseti."

Stalking off toward the ramps, he was actually a bit surprised by how long the girl hesitated before following after him. She would need to be taught a lesson after taking their leave from here, no doubt, unless she somehow made up for it during the trip. He doubted that would come to pass.

As they headed deeper into the heart of the refinery, the dying voices of their brothers and sisters in faith jumped from wall to wall, hauntingly invading their space. Soon, the Beowolves with their jaws still tainted with blood made it up to where they were coming down. As the Grimm howled and snarled on approach, Coral did as she was always told to; stood so close to her superior that she was nearly touching him.

Zalarex stood unmoving, clenched his fists, and exhaled. The Beowolves came close, but before reaching personal space they stopped, staring him down and moving uneasily. Some circled, others snapped at the air, but none would get too close to the man. He growled, low and menacing. The Beowolves hurried past him without confrontation, and the other species that came went just as easily.

As the colossal frame of the lionlike Barong reached their location, it lingered for a longer period, but with a flash of aura from Zalarex it ignored them like all the rest.

"Cables. Now." The man grunted at her, and Coral obliged, running down the last few ramps to reach the Forseti's cage and strat rigging it to leave. Zalarex was there a moment later, not having rushed, sifting through the remains of men and women dressed similarly to them around the looming doors aside. He got the gates to open with a quick punched code, the squad of eight on the other side looking unfazed even as their superior waded through torn fabric and blood to get to their side of the door.

Coral, having lifted the cage covered in cloth now torn in places with a forklift she commandeered, drove it through once the bodies –or what was left of them –were dragged out of the way. Once clear of the entrance, the first of many detonations was triggered to cover their tracks, as well as seal off what was once one of the largest successful Grimm Keeps to ever be made.


	19. Executioner (Ch 50-B)

**|Technically, there's supposed to be two chapters between this and the last, but I want to wait before posting them (This'll probably make Valentine's a double-post day! Audible gasp!). It bugs me since I wanted to stay chronological, but at the same time I don't want to wait. So... enjoy. - Prognis|**

**Executioner**

It was a stretch to say they had met at the hospital before now, because Steven hadn't even realized Pyrrha existed until they were told to leave. They sat in silence, waiting for word from the emergency care right next door trying to save Helena's life, Pyrrha with her hands balled up in her lap and the Huntsman across from her resting his forehead on the backs of his hands meshed together. When they were addressed by one of the hospital staff, one look out of his inner turmoil at her eyes and he recoiled like she had shot him. He had escaped her, shirking her attempts to talk like each syllable might curse him. She couldn't find the strength to catch up, seeing him trying just so hard to flee, so she let him go.

It was when Jaune heard the news from Ruby that not only Helena was wounded, but his other two teammates disappeared, that team _Juniper_'s leader began searching frantically for Steven. The worry on Jaune had been apparent when he had gone on his hunch to save team _RWBY, _but this was after the fact, and a longer standing personal friend of his no less. The concern in the boy's eyes led to she, Ren and Nora all looking for the former head of _Strength _as well.

She doubted it would have taken the others long if they simply asked around, but Pyrrha was the first to discover his whereabouts at this time, as she was the one to foresee his being sent away from the hospital again before actually checking there herself. The east wing's training room was in use, and the rage-filled cries and loud crashes from inside had deterred anyone else from going in today. A few had chanced it to see what was happening, but they had taken off just as quickly... Pyrrha had done her warmup and her formal training was planned later, just before lessons for Jaune; with no plans to make use of the room, she walked into the area still wearing her uniform.

Steven was soaked in sweat, his shirt thrown somewhere likely buried in the heaps upon heaps of broken training slabs. The various sizes were all spent, sliced every which way, and he was literally surrounded in piles of debris from an unreasonable amount of time swinging his blade; they were on a fast track to becoming dunes of gravel as he swept another demolished slab aside with one foot. The automatic dispenser was still supplying him with targets, but by the size of the mess he must have restocked it more than once. As the next slab appeared, Steven let out a low, guttural noise that chilled her before cleanly slicing it into three pieces. It fell, and another rose. Each time he swung, the vocals that followed were full of frustration, despair; the type of sound you would expect to hear from prey as it was eaten by a predator, voicing what words couldn't possibly describe.

It was seeing the terminal for activating the target dispenser that made her act; the display read a running time of just over thirty-nine hours now. The weekend was probably the only reason he hadn't been found out by a teacher, as no one was scheduled in and the vast majority of students were taking time off... She shut down the machine, and as he waited for the next slab to appear for longer than normal he soon gave up, smashing the floor a few times before leaving _Anvil Cleaver _embedded where it was. Pyrrha watched him march away, still unaware of her, finding a punching bag that looked thoroughly beaten already... the boy didn't bother with gloves. She sighed, unable to simply turn this one off.

"Steven, look at me." His head turned her way. He held no comprehension at first, up until he blinked and slipped a ways out of his daze. The sudden halt in activity triggered the weight of his fasting and relentless exercise to hit him in full, and he staggered forward just to fall backward when trying to right his balance. Pyrrha made no haste herself, sitting with her legs beneath her and to one side once close. "Jaune won't be happy when he sees you like this."

"Then just tell him I'm fine." He hoarsely said. His fingers were twitching, the skin on the inner side of his hands raw, bleeding. His knuckles were about the same, and his breathing was shallow.

Pyrrha cut him a glare. "You're clearly not okay."

"I know that. I'm telling you to lie, genius..." He kept avoiding her stare, as those green orbs would surely turn him to stone, and she kept trying to seize their bloodshot attention. Pyrrha sent a message or two on her scroll, and he couldn't lift his arms to stop her.

She shut the scroll with a clack of the two sides, her chastising look not having lessened any. "Landing yourself in the hospital next to her isn't going to help anything."

Enough energy returned from the short break for Steven to sluggishly drag himself to a wall where he could prop himself. She only had to swivel in place to face him, the boy not having gone far. She thought somewhere deep down, that the slack of his exhaustion would only count for half his weight, while the rest would be burdens he never let anyone else see. Pyrrha snapped out of these thoughts when he spoke again; "I'm... sorry. I failed Helena as a leader... as a friend... which means I failed you, too."

"So now you're just failing yourself to feel better?" His lip curled from the salt she just rubbed into the cut. "I don't know what happened out there. All I know is that it's hitting you hard, and if you care this much, no one should hold it against you –including, well... you. What's done is done. It's obvious that you would have prevented this if you could have."

Steven made another of those sounds that tore at her heart, scowling. "I want to think that, I really do. But this mistake is just... it's difficult for me to even wrap my head around. I made the calls, I leaped at the danger. I did everything I could so that they wouldn't even _find _a possibility of harm." He clenched his jaw. "But I _trusted _them. I _TRUSTED THEM! That _was where I went wrong, of all things!"

His fists pounded into the floor on either side, cracking the marble. The gritty tone from his sore throat made the rise in volume more impactful, somehow. "How was I supposed to expect that would screw Helena?! They should have been the safest when they were together. They should have been the _most_ trustworthy at that point... every time I think I've got the hang of protecting people, it's like the world goes around my back some other way. It's... it just isn't fair." He looked irritated by how juvenile that sounded.

Pyrrha looked apologetic. "You're only human, Steven. Tragedies happen, and in this line of work..."

"Do you remember what my teammates called me? That joke about my semblance." She let the silence from her last unfinished sentence linger as she thought. The sudden change in topic must have been going somewhere.

"The Executioner. It was because you usually landed the finishing blow, in that stance of yours, if I recall." He nodded.

"People talk. They still remember _Clover Park, _even if they act like it never happened. I turned my back on my brother... and now, trying to fill the shoes he wanted, someone nearly died –and may still –under my command, while two never came back at all. That nickname is getting a whole different reputation behind it, and I can't even really say it's wrong. Already, students're wondering how long the three _Resolve _members are going to survive with me in charge –and honestly? So am I." For the first time he smiled, and it was a lifeless one.

There was another uncomfortable intermission as neither of them could find words for the other. Eventually, Pyrrha got up and brushed off her shins a bit. "Well, it's your choice from here. If it worries you that much, you could pass the torch... but I think you're missing something important."

"That being?"

"If you take this experience, if you own it, and continue being a leader... you spare someone else the chance of suffering through it at all. This can better you, if you let it." She said this, hand outstretched. "Helena's strong. I have confidence that she'll pull through... and she could use a leader to be proud of when she comes to, don't you think?"

Steven looked at her as if she were an angel for a moment, before taking the proffered hand and standing to his full height. She was a few inches shorter than him, but it felt like she was miles above. "Why the hell doesn't Jaune bark at _your_ heels like a lost puppy? You're a lot closer by than Weiss. And better. In, like, nearly all aspects." She blushed, and he hardly even acknowledged it. The moment didn't last long as the Amazoness' nose crinkled.

"You need a shower." He gave her one of the smiles that had earned him mild popularity, even with the past he'd just mentioned.

"I hadn't guessed." She rolled her eyes at him. Not bothering to retrieve his shirt from the realm of wreckage, he walked out of the training room with Pyrrha as he was, finding the other three members of her team standing precariously close to the entrance.

Jaune gave him a sheepish look, one he brushed off. "H-hey, Steve..."

Steven disregarded the greeting as fast as the look, impatiently at that. "You heard what I just said, right? What the hell are you doing with yourself, man?"

"Whuh? Er, I don't know... I just got here. I was looking for you at the hospital..." Jaune exclaimed in a baffled tone. Apparently, he was either faking, or was just that thick –and it was a damned shame either way. He groaned in irritation, arms still too rubbery now to come up for a palm to the face.

Nora, on the other hand, hopped ahead to walk backwards and garner attention. "Me 'n Ren have been here for a while, though!"

"Sorry to intrude." Ren said, in his usual one-liner. Steven shook his head.

"I'm not mad. I'm more impressed you could keep her mouth shut this whole time, actually." Steven pointed at Nora, who went to chomp on his finger and missed by a hair as he drew back.

She smirked afterward, glancing at her preferred teammate. "Say, there's a hot topic going around lately about our friend's nickname. Wanna check it out? See who's got loose lips?" Her knuckles cracked. Jaune laughed uneasily.

In spite of Steven's conscience feeling a bit lighter, the Janitor would arrive that night to find a much heavier workload than usual.


	20. Fun Facts (Interlude)

** |I've gotten a handful of questions from you guys pretty frequently, and thought maybe I should answer them. This is just a quick explanation of some things that was modified from a document that held point forms of these facts in case I forgot, and is totally out of context from the story. Ignore and/or skip the chapter at your leisure. - ****Aldiev|**

* * *

><p><strong>Fun Facts<strong>

**/¸**Color naming: the golden rule (pun intended) of RWBY. This may surprise you, but I did follow this rule throughout the creation of the many characters in Resolve, but I lean very far from what might be considered acceptable by others. The 'makes you think of a color' or 'sounds like a color' parts of the rule itself made me want to think so far outside the box that it's hard to see the box from here. That said, let's dive right in;

Obaz is a name I've used online for various thing for years and years, and the release of the color naming rule made me panic slightly; by sheer stroke of luck, though, it happens to sound a lot like the word 'Topaz', which is a gemstone varying in color. If one were to mix the many colors of each type of Topaz, it would undoubtedly come out _Grey, _his symbolic hue. Sophia and Laera are fairly obvious, with self-explanatory last names, but Regis has a deeper meaning. Only someone from where I live would know, but _Agemont _ is a type of local wine that his name is inspired from; his kind yet traitorous nature is like the blood red of the wine that's masked by the nice blue label on the bottle.

Steven Kar Gemell, whose middle name shown here hasn't been seen in the story as of yet, is partly inspired by the word Caramel; despite what I am positive you have all thought until now, the 'G' in Gemell is silent (because I said so). Helena Teroi should be easily noticed as 'Helen of Troy', who is a well-known historic figure that I won't elaborate further on (basic education will have my back here if it doesn't already). Teresa and Nicole Calypse have their last names a mix of 'Calypso', a figure in various myths, and eclipse, an astrological phenomenon where the moon blocks the sun. This doesn't technically give you any color, but I like to think it counts as black, since an eclipse makes you think of darkness.

Khiver Lybel... will be explained in the story, actually, but a fraction of the inspiration there is the word 'reliable' hiding in the pronunciation. Hank Witzer, believe it or not, is literally the only non-canon character in this story not made by my hand –he is the sole contribution of my best friend on this earth. His name loosely comes back to 'Howitzer', which is a famed weapon of war, but this was created before the naming rule was loosed across the web; I don't want to change what isn't mine per se, but at the same time, a Howitzer may remind someone of metallic colors, the kinds Hank has much of in his character design. I leave it with that flimsy excuse in mind.

Saphriam is derived from 'Sapphire' as most have guessed, and Ingrid Hartness is taken from 'Heart', which is a term easily relatable to the color red. Graham Krieger comes from Graham Cracker, a deliciously wonderful snack that I adore to no end and coincidentally made his color scheme brown. Alastor A'Reyons is another mix of Alabaster, and Crayons, the latter of which isn't one color but many. Terrance Galadrie contains the term Terra, but that was by mistake. His last name is supposed to be a spin on the word Gallery, like an Art Gallery, which would be chock full of colors. Forsythe is another one based in war, like Hank Witzer; some older, black-and-brown uniforms worn by soldiers were described as Forsythe when they were irreparably torn or stained. Almorté DeCello... well... his last name is a brand of pasta; his sickly complexion and weak physical stature are supposed to be 'noodley' features. I invented the main villain of Resolve while cooking myself some spaghetti. No joke.

The only character with a name that doesn't adhere to the rule is Chel, because Chel doesn't even have a last name yet. It's taken me a lot of time to come up with a new moniker for the girl.

Now that that's out of the way, let's move on to pairing. The shipping wars that even somehow started happening here are honestly hysterical to me, but I gotta draw the line. Many of you come in to Resolve thinking it will be an OC x Yang pairing, but to do so would ruin all of the parallel I've built to the canon storyline. It's never going to happen, with any canon character. My apologies... there will likely be pairs between the non-canon cast, however, and so much _almost_ between Obaz and Yang that you'll want to tear my head clean off.

Much like the names are based off of existing colors, objects, and so on, every establishment, vehicle, and weapon have been named relative to existing things. Minor characters mentioned once only are modified from the names of famous actors. For example, Jim Nortons is a coffee place named after Tim Hortons(C), which you might not have heard of since it's common in Canada but nowhere else really. Merit Parish was a stab at Value Village(C), being synonyms. The Tempest cutter C-99 was named after the contact beam in Dead Space 2(C). Gerard Servant, John Goodfellow and Chris Stone (aliases used in Chapter 38: Winging It) were all twists of actors Gerard Butler, John Goodman and Chris Rock respectively –some are easy to get, like these, others not so much. There is a connection to be made on every last one.

How long RWBY: Resolve will go on for has come into question a few times; I can't possibly be aiming to sideline the whole RWBY plot from start to finish. I totally want to, but I have other priorities, and I doubt I could pull off an entire plot tangled with theirs for multiple years without royally botching something. As of now, we are moving toward arc 3 of Resolve since we're piggybacking RWBY's Volume system... there will be AT LEAST one arc after this one coming, and MAYBE another, making four to five in total. The fifth and final arc, depending on Canon development, may be turned into an epilogue story separate from Resolve –or not written at all. It's a long time coming, so we'll have to wait and see.

Lastly, a thanks for your continued support and interest. I never suspected that anything I wrote, let alone fanfiction, would garner so much positive feedback. For those of you that are on this website without an account, I can't respond to guest reviews, but have made a facebook page with the same account name here (PrognisAldiev) if you would like to reach me or ask questions. I've gotten a number of guest reviews expecting a reply that I can't give, and it irks me to be unable.


	21. February 1st (Ch 50-C : Farewell)

**February 1st**

After ensuring Steven's assistance in times to come, Obaz left his new team leader inside the dorms with his thoughts, leaving out the back entrance to evade Sophia and Laera on the front steps. He took a moment outside to take a deeper breath, glancing back at the building from where he could encompass the whole thing in his view. The walls were almost pearlescent, with ample space for each individual dormitory to fit four people, and other facilities were close at hand. The food served to students was great, the company most of his peers provided was great, and the teachers were great at what they did even with his unreasonable standards.

He had it great here, didn't he?

To take something for granted, and to forsake it, were two different things. Obaz was aware that the luxuries he had here were plentiful, but he wasn't under the impression that he was entitled to them. Some people lost privileges because they wanted more, or thought they were rights. Obaz was giving them up for a purpose, and in a way, that was worse. Foresight into what you were about to turn your back on made the act more difficult.

Then again, when it came to things like life itself, there were times when it was neither taken for granted or forsaken willingly. That sudden disappearance from the world, without even a chance to do anything about it... that was the most terrifying.

It was this unwarranted sense of loss he began to dwell on, that led Obaz to taking one last tour of the school, in order to appreciate what he may not be able to come back to. For some reason, he couldn't shake the thought that something was missing. Not necessarily from him or his possession per se, but from the school. From the world, maybe... it was as if everything he could see had grown a shade duller, every sound a bit quieter.

The many spires, crosswalks, even the arching outer walls, all of it were impressive from an observer's perspective. It was much like living in a palace, really. Each room contained a vivid memory; here, he learned his first real lesson on Grimm. The arena he and Yang had first fought, where he had battled Blake for the sake of proving a point. The firing range, where he had let Ruby and Sophia share a secret with him. He nodded to many of the students and teachers he passed, though he was mainly ignored as he often ignored them instead.

The courtyard by the fountain was packed to the seams with times that held meaning. Meetings with Yang over matters he once would have never discussed with anyone, or trying to advise a distraught Weiss after the disappearance of her friend... He would have lingered around here were it not for team RWBY'S presence here already, all four of them meeting with a fellow Obaz hadn't seen before. His attire wasn't a Beacon uniform, and he was a ways older than they, but there was an eerie familiarity he exuded. It was like seeing something so rare the very fact that it had been seen should be documented, somehow.

His first thought was to approach, or at least listen in, but the body language of the girls from here showed an atmosphere of sorrow and detachment. This must have been some very bad news, or a parting of some kind, that was entirely not his business. Obaz kept his distance, the girls' backs to him but the individual before them facing his way. The individual was actually hard to make out, both in appearance and demeanor towards the people he was speaking to, but without any deliberation Obaz was urged to wave. A simple gesture, one that wasn't even acknowledged, but it felt like enough. Even if it hadn't, it was time to turn away, and leave them to the closure they were trying to reach. Even from here, the sobs sounded clear as day.

All things came and went, and even the little things had to be appreciated. Every inch of this establishment was once only concept, every blade of grass once only a seed, every day once only an uncertain future. And with no way to thank the one responsible for this life, for the ideas that shaped what he was now a part of, he could only admire.


	22. Streetlight, Part 2 (Valentine's)

**|I felt kinda bad, not having updated anything for a while as of late, so thought to hand over the Valentine's chapter many of you have been waiting for with bated breath. I should be back on track with the usual pace fairly soon. - Prognis|**

**Streetlight, Part 2**

"Morning, sleepyhead." Yang said, head supported in the heels of her palms, fingers curled. She gave Obaz a dazzling smile as he adjusted to the less impressive lights of the dormitory, only just now coming to. Had he been knocked unconscious? What other explanation was there?

"... This is your dorm. And Blake's bunk..." He trailed off, more confused than he was comfortable with.

Yang's grin toned down to a thinner one. "She volunteered it since the Infirmary's full, same as your dorm. We couldn't lay an injured person on that hardwood desk of yours."

"My team?" Obaz wondered. His thoughts were still fuzzy, from either wounds or exhaustion.

"They're just napping. Better off than you were, trust me." He went to sit up and move the covers, but Yang scootched her chair further to the side, planting a hand on his chest and pushing him gently back down. "Where do you think you're going?"

"Elsewhere." He snapped, attempting to sit up again. She shoved him back with a little more force this time, and he winced.

"Not on my watch. You need to relax," Her left kept him still as it already did, but her other hand moved the covers like he had wanted to. His lower abdomen was wrapped in gauze, probably even from his own pocket. Blood had soaked through them slightly. "And we have to change these over. Arms up."

Frowning, Obaz grasped the headboard behind him. How this happened in the first place was still lost on him, and it was nagging away at his conscience. "You had better do it right..."

Yang smirked, tearing the old wrappings off less than carefully to watch him squirm. Color dusted his cheeks just enough to show below the fringe line of his bangs, and her look went from focused to teasing. "I'm staying this far north, you know. Don't go getting any ideas."

"None come to mind, thank you." He said irritably. She chuckled, but it was short-lived.

"You don't eat a whole lot. This is all muscle, in an unhealthy way." Yang said, prodding him in the abs where they weren't harmed.

He frowned again. "Eating beyond necessity is a luxury. There are higher priorities."

"You're ridiculous. '_Breathing is a luxury, Yang. Let me suffocate'._" She mocked his tone in a childish way, and he punched her in the shoulder. She chuckled again, and he grimaced, having gotten a flare of pain out of his injuries. "Seriously though, all that time you say you have, and you can't fit in an extra meal where it counts?"

Obaz withstood the critical hit to his own logic. "I could. It is better spent ensuring I learn ways to improve, and survive. Coping with an empty stomach is trivial, compared."

She sighed, like a mother hearing the same excuse for the hundredth time, putting the finishing touches on the gauze wrapping his torso. "Efficiency this, efficiency that. Would it kill you to cut loose every now and then, live a little? You tangled with Blake solely to get that point across."

"She was mistaking haste with recklessness."

"And you're mistaking time management with torture." Yang countered. They glared at one another until Obaz snatched up his shirt and put it back on. "... we almost lost you, Obaz."

He didn't ease back at all, even when her confrontational glare lowered to one of worry. "This profession is full of risks. You should get used to comrades coming back injured, or not at all -!?"

Yang leaned as far as possible from her seat in order to embrace him, wrapping her arms around his back and burying her face into his chest. Obaz had his own arms hovering out from him, not sure whether to reciprocate or stay the hell away from what was happening as he stared down at the blond clinging to him. "I can't get used to that. I _won't._"

Yang sounded upset, and he didn't want to make whatever this was worse, but the close contact was jarring and unbecoming of her. Obaz slowly, in fractions of movement, moved so one hand would rest on her head and the other was on her back offering awkward pats of reassurance. "... I'm sorry. Your care and concern is much appreciated."

"All you ever do is prepare, like all you live for is the next problem. It's not right." She mumbled, muffled by the person she still had a hold of. He made no attempt at a reply, and after a few more moments of silence she let him go, standing from her seat; this made him sigh in relief until she made a shooing gesture with one hand. "Move over. That chair's uncomfortable."

"... I beg your pardon?"

"Oh, come on. Now's not the time to play double-standards –you made the same threat, and it was even _my_ bed." Obaz' usual monotony fell away almost entirely once it was clear she was serious, and shifted over with the utmost reluctance. She sat with her back to him at first, then swinging her legs up and leaning against the headboard. "... You should quit."

Obaz frowned, still laying down, head next to her waist. Her face was skewed by her chest from this angle, which he almost laughed at until she spoke. "Elaborate."

"Being a Huntsman. You suck at it."

"That would be an enormous waste of free tuition." Obaz quipped back. She cracked a smile at that one.

"My sister is a fifteen-year-old-girl, and she can probably overpower you without trying."

"Your whole team is freakishly skilled and strong. That is hardly a fair comparison."

She slid to the side to look down at Obaz, finding her angle was just as difficult to deal with. It put her face hovering a foot or two over his, framed on all sides by her blond locks following gravity. He had literally nothing to look at but her at the moment. "And the Grimm are going to care about 'fair comparisons'?"

"I can make up for it with strategy, and equipment."

"I don't want you to die, and I can't be there to protect you all the time. Neither can your team, the way you keep them in the dark."

He furrowed his brow, unable to do much more with her eyes entrancing him as they were. "I don't want your pity, or your safekeeping."

"What if your friends want you to accept it? What if _I_ do?" Yang had rolled onto her side, one hand sneaking over while he wasn't watching to touch his cheek. "What if I can't stand the thought of memories down the road, where you're gone?"

He felt paralyzed, and she dipped closer and closer to him. Her lips pursed within an inch of his, and he said;

"I think it is about time I awoke."

She pulled back a little bit, giving him a surprised look that turned into a bit of anger. "You think this is a dream?"

He nodded. "Absolutely."

"I thought you said you don't sleep?"

"As far as I am aware, I do not miraculously grow back appendages, either." His left arm, entirely flesh and blood, clenched as if to hang on to its false existence.

Yang shook her head with a defeated expression. "You couldn't have gone with it for even a second longer, could you?"

"Time management." He said.

"Torture." She corrected. The warmth of the girl at his side, the comfort of a friend's bed, and the bright lights of his illusion all faded away...

* * *

><p>Obaz regained consciousness, fighting down the urge to shiver with cold, but didn't bother to open his eyes yet. He had a dream, for the first time, and it was unbelievably vivid. What was more, to accept it was to acknowledge that the many naggings of his friend in the dream were concerns he legitimately had hiding in the dark recesses of his mind. He didn't want to so much as consider analyzing all that had been said, all that he feared, all that he thought needed fixing in his life at Beacon that may or may not even continue from here. So, as far as he was concerned...<p>

... Obaz hadn't dreamt of anything. His breathing was shallow, and his eyelids dejectedly came apart to view a darkness as total as it was when they were shut.


	23. Asking for Trouble, Part 2 (Cameo 1-B)

**|So the first chapter of this gained a fair amount of recognition from fans of Auburn and the creator of the character alike, something I only discovered recently. Enough so that it warranted request of a sequel... and here we are. I was much less familiar with the character focused on this time around in comparison to Auburn, so in foresight I apologize if I got any part of Hatter wrong at a given point. With that said, sit back and enjoy. - ****Aldiev|**

* * *

><p><strong>Asking for Trouble, Part 2<strong>

"What do you mean, you'll fail me?!" The student exclaimed, standing before Glynda Goodwitch on the arena floor. He could feel the rest of the class making judgemental comments and looks, not that it mattered to him, but given this failure really did occur... his parents would have a fit.

Vladimir Heliotrope Hatter, as he liked to introduce himself to the ladies in full, was the prestigious heir to a rather well-known mining company. Not behind distribution and refinery like Schnee Dust, but noticeable enough in its specialty to be of mild renown, and frankly Vlad's grades needed to reflect that reputation. At the rate things were going, his third year at Beacon would go down the drain, and that was more of a tarnished image than a nice mirror sheen.

Glynda adjusted her glasses before she continued; "Yes, Mr. Hatter. Your effort put into this class is unsatisfactory, so you will likely fail basic combat this year due to your negligence."

"I put in plenty of effort where it counts..."

She crossed her arms in disapproval of the response. "All facets of this class 'count', Mr. Hatter."

So, the primarily purple-clad young member of team PYRH glanced back in what was an uncommon show of concern to his teammates, an unvoiced suggestion to defend his case; Falu Yu, their resident archer, quirked a brow as if to say 'you brought this upon yourself'. Reeno Umber, the brawn of the team, merely grunted in refusal. Their leader, Auburn Perrault, sighed before taking it upon herself to negotiate. "Is there anything he can do to show some dedication?"

Glynda mulled over the question. "If Mr. Hatter succeeds in a preliminary exam, it may impress me enough to improve his overall grade to a passing one. Failure, on the other hand..." She trailed off, giving the boy a look that had him swallow. "I would choose a student for him to duel, here and now, and victory will improve his standing. He'll still have to take on the actual exam later."

The deal she was offering was obviously bait, both to ask that he make an effort on top of what this class provided as well as take a risk in his current predicament. He had yet to beat the other third years present in the room, but then again, he hadn't truly tried to when going head to head before now.

"I'll take that deal. Who's it going to be, Ms. Goodwitch?"

"Him." She said, pointing to the entrance of the room. Pushing past the double doors for no less than half a second by this point, Obaz' face peered past the threshold. He scowled even before he knew what was going on, a stark contrast to the amusement the teacher was showing in a small but rare smirk.

"Really? I won't argue, but shouldn't you be picking someone from our class-" Vlad was cut off by the door slamming behind Obaz, who had entered fully now.

"You heard the teacher... This is a good opportunity." His words didn't match the face he made moments ago... Vlad gave the blonde a last look of skepticism before Glynda motioned to the steps up to the arena, Obaz taking the hint.

With _Prophet _and _Pariah _holstered at his side, _Purgatory _wasn't with Obaz right now, but he did have the _Profanes; _he had just built a replacement for the one broken on Osem Peaks, and his departure from Beacon was soon coming, so he had intended to be sure it was up to standard before leaving with the pair. Seeing that the class was populated by more experienced students, testing them against a third year sounded like as much extra value he could get into the experience.

As Vladimir took a position opposite of him, Obaz' recognized him as the one sitting in Sophia's personal bubble while he had fought against Auburn Perrault, meaning the guy must have been one of her teammates... first impressions were poor, but not enough so to underestimate; his muscle mass was lower than other students here, and he cared a fair bit for his appearance. The same could be said of Weiss Schnee, so he suspected his tactics and abilities were variable in range and mostly low-effort, impersonal attacks. The weapon taken from... inside his top hat?... was what he didn't know as _Jester's Crown;_ a single-edged blade with an off-center grip and bladed hand guard, colored in his signature purple hue. At present, it looked quite simplistic.

Vlad looked confident and held a lax posture while waiting for Ms. Goodwitch to call the match to a start, but that fell away somewhat when Obaz drew the twin weapons that he was here to check on, which were ones he hadn't used against Auburn; the brass knuckles had short, toothy blades up the length of them, with button triggers to thumb up top and small barrels facing straight down from the hands. This barrel and the grip were one and the same, making them compact and light.

Reeno had his arms crossed over his broad chest as he normally did, but he glanced over when Auburn's expression darkened even more than it had when Glynda was talking to their teammate. "This shouldn't have you so concerned. You made beating that one look like child's play."

"That's exactly it." She said. "I made it _look _like child's play. I was probably the worst match-up for Obaz to have... and Vladimir, on the other hand, couldn't be worse off against him." Falu Yu, who had been quiet up until now, finally voiced his own thoughts;

"I wasn't there when you fought him." Was all he said, implying Auburn should elaborate on what she meant.

The teacher held up her hand, bringing the match to a start, and Obaz immediately darted forward toward his opponent. Vladimir swapped the weapon in his hands to a staff form, holding it wide to use both ends as needed to fend off the first year's knuckle weapons. Before they actually made contact, Obaz crossed his wrists and fired pellets at the floor, the projectiles bursting into clouds of black smoke around Vlad. A spin of the staff cleared the powder away, only to expose a fist snapping up toward his jaw with a solid _crack._ He stumbled back slightly, escaping another two jabs and bringing a staff end to the boy's upper leg. They circled one another for a moment, Obaz not adopting any customary brawler's stance.

Auburn sighed, not taking her eyes off the two but filling in Falu Yu. "I was able to take him down because Obaz doesn't really show any specialties. He's really well rounded in skill and stature, which made him less capable of dealing with a strong offensive like mine. Even then, I had to keep an eye on him, because every move he made he was planning steps ahead. Vlad capitalizes on weaknesses and exploits disadvantages in skill and weapons; Obaz has practically no openings and his weapons are as interchangeable as _Jester's Crown's_ forms. That isn't quite all, though."

Even as she said this, Falu could see what she meant; as soon as Vlad made a move, Obaz called it out and made a well placed strike to the lower or upper body. Vladimir switched his weapon yet again to an axe form this time; Obaz put away the knuckles and drew _Pariah_ for accurate parrying. Vlad collapsed the axe after a near miss into a parrying dagger form, fighting fire with fire; _Pariah _was shortened to deal with the new speed factor. Watching the combatants was like watching a game of rock-paper-scissors with several extra options, and based on their classmate being chased around the arena, Obaz was better at guessing his adversary's picks.

"From fighting him, I could tell that he was at one strict disadvantage with me in specific, and that was my claws; they don't detach easily." Auburn paused, grimacing as her premonition came to pass; as Vlad swung the axe form down on Obaz, the younger student simply dropped his weapon on the spot and caught the axe by the shaft, prying it from Vladimir's hands and swinging it right back. "He's adept at disarming, and not afraid to take risks."

Lost without _Jester's Crown, _Vlad rapidly searched for a way or opening to take back his gear, but Obaz would use the weapon's form swaps to keep him from utilizing the knowledge he had of his own weapon in time; trying to catch it by the hilt led to a switch to dagger state, which nearly stabbed him at the stomach. Trying to knock the small blade from his hands led to a sword swap for better grip. Fortunately, he soon came back to the axe form, not having seen well enough how to go into staff or the unused rifle forms.

As the heavy axe head nearly cleaved his chest, Vladimir backed up and caught it by clapping either side of the flat. Obaz let go of the weapon yet again, taking one of the _Profanes _from his back pocket quick enough to land a shot to the jaw again. Taking the punch and rolling with the force, Vlad switched his reclaimed weapon to sword form and made a whirling diagonal slice up Obaz' torso, knocking him back a few feet. They both eyed _Pariah _still abandoned on the floor; two less types of equipment to take against Vlad if he needed.

Vladimir took the breather as time to activate his semblance; looking more closely at Obaz, Vlad attempted to pinpoint gaps in defense and weak areas that would be highlighted by his aura-enhanced vision. As the smaller individual moved ever so slightly, all of the spots that stood out to Vlad changed drastically, and he could never keep track of them for long... aside from a left arm and right leg that showed no signs to his semblance whatsoever, the young huntsman was constantly shifting enough that Vladimir's semblance considered any part of his body as both a potentially easier or more difficult target. He frowned strongly at the realization –one Auburn had just explained to his other teammates.

The other _Profane _in hand, Obaz drew closer but fell back on a defensive stance as Vlad kept him away from the blade on the floor, unleashing a myriad of slashes that were just barely deflected at each turn by the metal teeth on the end of the knuckles. Vlad made a broader sweep than before to tempt Obaz into trying to disarm him again, and used the grapple attempt to bash his opponent in the ribs with the sharp hand guard twice over. Taking the hits in stride, Obaz used the chance to clutch Vlad's wrist with one hand and straighten his arm, drawing his own back for an elbow to Vlad's eye during the windup for a devastating haymaker to the elbow. Dipping down from the force of the slam, Vladimir clenched his teeth as pain rattled through the joint and visited on the rest of the limb –if not for his aura, his arm would have probably snapped backwards. Ignoring the sensation, he turned the blade still in hand so he could spin it in his grasp; facing the edge sideways allowed a flick of the wrist to land a gash up Obaz' face from chin to cheekbone, startling the boy so Vlad could turn the tide.

Twisting to bend his arm without having to break Obaz' hold, Vlad dropped Jester's Crown into his waiting other hand, getting a clean cut to Obaz' midsection while simultaneously hefting the boy over his back into a throw to the floor. Once he was finally unhanded, Vlad swapped to axe form and raised the weapon over his head with the intent to finish this with a powerful blow. Drawing his arms up without standing, Obaz fired more capsules of powder at Vladimir, and struck the edges of his knuckles together in the upperclassman's direction.

As the sparks from Obaz' knuckles met the flammable powder in between them, the cloud combusted with a gout of flame, hurling Vlad back with burns to the chest and Obaz sliding across the floor. He clawed at the arena in attempts to catch himself, but only managed by the time his legs exited the stage, causing Ms. Goodwitch to call the match in Vladimir Hatter's favor. The accidental self ring-out looked like it didn't sit too well with Obaz at all.

As Vlad groaned and sat down with exhaustion, Glynda gave him a glance. "A promise is a promise, Mr. Hatter; but I hope this has taught you a valuable lesson. The boy you just fought hasn't been here for a year, and has practiced more than you." She gave a nod to the display showing their aura levels, and the two of them were in the yellow –both dangerously close to red, but Vlad's more so. "And that gap in commitment leads to results like these."

Auburn physically shoved past Obaz who was getting down from the arena to climb up herself and check on her teammate, getting a common scowl out of the boy that went unnoticed. As she directed her friend in what wounds he should prioritize treatment of, she stopped momentarily to glare daggers at the one responsible for them. "Do you always treat basic sparring like a title deathmatch?"

The boy simply shrugged, wiping blood off his face with his sleeve and turning his back on the two, vacating a class he wasn't attending. She made to call after him with an angered expression, but the one she was feeling protective over set a hand on her arm. "Hey, it's alright. I'll be ship-shape in no time, and I'm not gonna fail the class, so all's well that ends well. No sense in dogging the guy who just lost... er, no pun intended."

Auburn's temper eased at that, eyes trailing after the younger student as the doors shut behind him. With another sigh, she nodded thanks to her teammate and hopped down from the arena, tailing Obaz anyways.

Falu and Reeno had both split apart to let her past, both turned to watch her go as Vladimir joined them. The archer arched a brow. "What's she following him for?"

A grunt came from the other Faunus of the team. "Probably wants to be his friend or something, human leg-humper that she is..."

Popping Jester's Crown back into his hat, with a flourish Vlad set the headwear back where it belonged. "Should we see how she fares? I'd bet money on the kid staying cold as ice about the whole thing."

The silence only carried on for a few moments, until Falu simply stated; "How much?"

Unanimously, the three chose to go after their team's leader in spite of the class ending in just a few minutes. Ms. Goodwitch shook her head, listening to the doors shut behind yet another batch of her students doing as they pleased.


	24. Competitive Spirit P1 (Memory)

**|Just to quickly explain a small point in all this, I refrained from describing Pyrrha well in this chapter as well as using her semblance because I have no idea what clothes she wore during the years before Beacon at these tournaments, nor do I know if she had access to her semblance. I've implied that she may be using her semblance here, but if she hadn't had it at the time, nothing here explicitly says such, so I'm safe. That said, here you go. – ****Prognis|**

* * *

><p><strong>Competitive Spirit, Part 1<strong>

Training only took you so far. As much as it could make the difference between victory and loss, there were other factors that could make or break a match. Pyrrha, age fifteen knew all too well that Remnant had any number of other talented young fighters, and that not for a second could she let down her guard against them, or she could very well lose this tournament. Despite being called 'invincible' recently after winning the championship last year, utilizing her skills and abilities to their fullest was the only way to maintain that image, even when it might seem she didn't need to. Always put in one hundred percent...

Even knowing this, she found it difficult to go full throttle when faced with the nearly unarmed opponent that stood apart from her in the quarter-finals.

Hank Witzer –as he was introduced –held the most rust-red, crusty, five-foot long iron pipe she'd ever seen, patting his other palm with the elbow joint on the end. No armor to speak of, his clothes were even ratty and stained by who knew what, a smoke-colored sweatshirt with a half-skewed logo over tan pants and poorly laced boots. His pine-green hair was a mess, and she could swear she could smell him from here. She went into an advanced combat tournament only to find what looked like a hobo waiting for her near the end, and it was confusing. How had he even gotten past registration?

Forget blunt force trauma, she was more concerned about that pipe giving her tetanus. The other tween simply made a face, like he was used to getting the judgemental look she was absently maintaining. Still, she kept Milo and Akuo ready, and as the match was motioned to a start Hank tore across the arena with nearly blinding speed.

Eyes wide, Pyrrha blocked three swings before she would normally even have to block one, on instinct rather than with calculated movements. The force he was coming at her with was ferocious, and the velocity of his strikes were unreal compared to previous contestants, even throwing her off her feet with an upward swing to her shield. She went to get a thrust of her blade in, but he smacked it aside and struck her shield yet again with the pipe, chips of rust flying off the object with how hard he was attacking –calling him relentless would be an understatement; it was the sheer force and tenacity at which he gave chase that was forcing her back, as she could tell he had no formal experience. It was a raw, unrestrained assault with no real thought or training, but to a degree that it levelled the playing field between them. Her arm was starting to go numb from how often she had to block, and it was difficult to throw the crude weapon off course.

As she leaped back from another wild swing, he went with the motion and spun before sliding in his footing for a moment and giving chase. Trying to parry her weapon this time actually got the pipe sliced into two pieces, but he swiftly caught the other and started bashing at her again with both halves of it now. She landed a pommel strike on his ribs, and he twirled with the blow again to make one last attempt on her guard; this slightly lowered her shield this time, and she expected him to move in on the opening but he chose to stumble further away from her. Rather than stop and jump right back at her, he made a long and unnecessary trip of circling her, which let her get back into stance.

She got a cut in on his shoulder as well as a knee to the midsection, but he may as well have ignored these things in favor of trying to bash her skull in. She evaded the vertical swings, but he tripped her as she slipped to the side; again, just when it seemed he would finally land a blow on her, he dropped both pieces of the pipe on either side of her, holding out his arms like he wanted a hug from the audience; "Alright, we're done here! That's all, folks!"

There was a momentary silence, Pyrrha staring up at the boy in confusion. "I beg your pardon?"

"I forfeit, Nikos. S'over."

The chorus of boos and utter outrage was deafening, and concessions fell like rain down at Hank and the arena at large. He made a game out of trying to catch at least one thrown drink, and succeeding, left while sipping a stranger's beverage, joining a smaller blonde boy at the exit of the stadium. After a few moments of officials trying to calm the crowd, the referee finally named Pyrrha winner by default of the strangest encounter she ever had...

Hank vanished just as quickly as he appeared, and Pyrrha's best efforts to find him after the match were naught, as his registration also failed to encompass his whereabouts; she only learned later that yes, she had guessed right when thinking Hank looked like a homeless person. Address, street name, and so on all held the word 'none' on his form.

* * *

><p>A year passed, and Pyrrha found that Hank had entered the tournament for the second time; he was significantly cleaner, with polished teeth and a nicer jacket over slacks and some bands to tie his new clothes down. She had asked to see his registration early this time, and rather than 'clothes' and 'rusty pipe', he had entered with 'outfit' and 'sharpened pole'. Not much of an improvement, but an improvement no less. She steeled herself for the match to come, as any amount of practice would make him more than formidable, even just a little. He'd had a whole year to step up his act, and while her 'invincible' status remained intact –not having actually suffered a hit from him last year, even taking the trip into account –that could change today. She did not want to jeopardize her third consecutive win of the tournament when she could tell Hank was a threat to it.<p>

However, Pyrrha got to see him in action before actually coming face-to-face this time around, as he was set against Helena Teroi at present. Apparently, he'd soundly beaten her during last year's as well, and the determined face she had on now said that she had no intention of letting that happen again. Hank, who was twirling his six-foot polished rod that had been grinded to a point at the end, tapped his foot at the same time. The reigning champ watched on as he maintained it casually, but noticed that he was being sure it continued even until the match began. Just like that, he launched from his starting position like a streak of lightning, almost putting the point through her head within the first few seconds. A flash of his green aura came intermittently, and from the spectator's position, Pyrrha could now see that it appeared each time that flash took place, his speed and strikes improved. His semblance must have been reliant on staying in perpetual motion: this realization explained just why he never caught himself but rather followed the motion if he stumbled or was struck, both last year and right now...

The blonde and military-garbed Helena was doing well to keep up with Hank; her precision and nimbleness in combat were naturally greater than Hank's, so his semblance currently served in catching up to her level. She was even a tad younger than Pyrrha, hair done up in a similar ponytail to keep it from interfering. With her twin blades, slightly curved forward, she was whirling and dashing under, over and around each of Hank's attempts to land a blow, leaving small ones of her own that were steadily building into a decent chunk out of his aura. He nearly caught her in the eye with the blunt end of his pole, but she saw it coming, booting that end of the weapon into the air and delivering a smooth kick to the side of his neck.

Hank rolled to get back to his feet in one quick motion with a circling jog, ducking a slash of her blade to swing an elbow at her ribs. She leaned back so far that it made his eyes pop, impressed shortly before she came back from this with a twist of her torso into a twirl that took rends of his new shirt and dropped his aura significantly. Soon, however, she was getting run down by Hank's sheer recklessness, her two kukri failing to keep her from getting cross-checked with the pole and floored for a series of wild curb stomps that had the spectators furious –that was hardly a duelling technique.

Catching his foot in one hand, Helena cranked it, Hank falling to keep from having his ankle snapped and rolling even further from her to make a swift stand from that motion. He was certainly good at keeping his momentum going... Smirking at the blonde, his eagerness had risen to a point where he was visibly shaking, and his eyes were barely focusing on the girl in front of him until he began running in circles. As Helena chose to take this chance rather than wonder where Hank's mind had gone to, Pyrrha saw what he was doing just shortly before his opponent suffered it;

He had been making it a small loop and leaning toward the middle, so the faster he went the more momentum he built in that tight turn, and once she was close enough all he did was hold out his hand; the first time it made contact, it slapped her with a contact sound louder than the weapon clashes previously. There was another aura flash, and the second time one of her swords was caught by his arm, a self-inflicted injury dropping him to a low-yellow standing. There were numerous more rotations and flashes of his semblance before his hand found her ponytail of all things after she'd fallen from the first strike, and managing to take hold Hank whipped the girl right out of the arena and quite nearly through a wall. Trying to stop, Hank wiped out as well, tumbling into a mess of limbs tangled together and too dizzy to get to his feet for a few moments. The referee had to help him up to declare him the winner, an outcome that seemed unpopular with the crowd.

Helena was helped up and checked over for actual injury, but she went from dazed to angry once the shock of cracking the wall had passed. As Hank went to depart the arena, Helena caught up to him just inside the entrance hall. "What the hell was that?!"

"Er... tactics, I guess." Hank closed his eyes and upturned his palms, giving up any further explanation he may have had.

Helena was resisting the urge to hit him over this. "Stomping, slapping, hair-pulling? How can you enter a tournament and step all over sportsmanship like that?"

"With a carefully placed foot, Teroi." Hank smirked, and she drew back to punch him only to find Pyrrha urging her to calm down. Both she and Hank were surprised to see her there.

"You don't need to make this worse... if you hurt him now, it will only seem like spite. And that isn't very honorable, is it?" Helena let her fist lower, placated by the redhead's words. Pyrrha then moved on to Hank. "If she hadn't approached you when you pulled that stunt, you would have spun yourself senseless and given her the perfect chance to defeat you. How were you so sure that would work?"

Hank's earlier smirk improved to complete a full-on grin. "She has something to prove since I winged her last year. So eager to settle the score as well as wanting to win the whole thing, she was very likely to get close enough for that to work."

"... clever. I wouldn't have pegged you as the type to read people."

He laughed a bit, stepping aside as two new contestants passed by them to square off outside. "You'd be right. I was quoting my brother."

Helena looked annoyed, but she had no way to argue seeing as they just explained that Helena's loss was entirely her own fault. The three began vacating the tournament area, as all the matches they were scheduled for were done for today. Hank would face Pyrrha tomorrow so long as they beat their respective first opponents.

"... are you going to forfeit again tomorrow?" Hank remained silent until Pyrrha grabbed the back of his collar. They stood still as he had been about to veer off the hall they would be taking outside, and he sighed.

"What does it matter? It just means you have an easier time keeping your title." She spun him around, and this time Helena merely flicked him in the forehead.

"You would take me down just to put that effort to waste?! If you're not here to win, you have no right taking the chance from people who are!"

Pyrrha continued as well; "You shouldn't be here if you're not going to try. I don't know why you keep giving up at the last second, but it's a shameful thing to do."

"I'm trying plenty hard. I just have a different goal in the first place, Nikos." Hank forced them apart from him, and sauntered off without paying any heed to the glares he was getting.

* * *

><p>'<em>How could someone intending to lose start so strong and fight so hard?'<em>

Pyrrha thought this to herself when the pointed metal stick Hank had upgraded to nearly punched a hole through her skull. This time, he was aiming around her guard and getting her to do small deflections with the edge of her shield rather than battering her, defense or no.

He was faster, stronger, and a little more skilled; everything she had come to expect. What she hadn't was the way he was predicting her –nearly every move she made to counteract his were caught with such precision that there was no way he was intercepting her strikes off his gut feeling. He had gotten familiar with her fighting style, to such an extent that he must have had a perfect memory for these things. Even as she had difficulty with his newfound prowess, she still had yet to actually be touched; she wondered if it was her ability, or his aim, that had kept it that way so far.

Trying to sweep her legs out from under her, Hank was left open for a kick to the chin, which he flipped into a backspring that he could carry momentum out of. Just as quick he was back with a stab at her shoulder, causing her to sidestep and duck the next swing of the pole. He brought this around to hold behind his neck, making another stab over his shoulder at her face, darting through her crimson locks in a narrow miss. Pyrrha slashed at his midsection, and Hank kicked her shield to the side, spinning on the other foot and getting into a position where he could hurl the spear into her stomach like a javelin. She wouldn't be able to bring her shield up in time...

Hank threw the spear into the ground right in front of her, and as he held up his hand toward the ref to forfeit the match, Pyrrha leaped past the pole to grab his hand first. They eyed one another for a few seconds. "Finish what you started, Witzer."

"... Next year." His other hand shot up, and the referee called it an automatic win in Pyrrha's favor. She crushed the other hand she had a hold of, and through the wince it brought on she caught him smirk again.

"No worries, Nikos. I promise."


	25. Competitive Spirit P2

**Competitive Spirit, Part 2**

The third year Hank entered the Mistral Regional Tournament, Pyrrha smirked as she skimmed his registration, this time armed with 'some armor' and 'a decent spear'. She was having mixed feelings about her fourth consecutive year, though mostly positive; at first, when she came to realize that she'd been looking forward to seeing him here this time around, she'd questioned herself as to why. It had been days since, and she understood to an extent... It wasn't just the promise he made after the last fight they had, but he stirred things up while he was around, and he spoke to her casually unlike those who had come to hold her fame to such a high regard. She didn't consider the guy a friend –that would be absurd... but he was closer to the term than everyone else, who treated her like she was a solid gold war goddess. Jerk? Yes. Quitter? Yes. But something was telling her that deep down, he was a good person at heart, and this was adding a sense of strangeness to the already-impressive grandeur of the occasion.

Another surprise that came about was Helena, who had searched her out near immediately upon coming to Mistral herself. Their dual confrontation of Hank last year seemed to have nurtured camaraderie between them, and Helena was set on at least having a few words about the tournament with her, as well as simply wishing her luck. There might have been more if not for her servants, Pyrrha's sponsors, and the media monopolizing their time here at the event.

Once the matches had actually come to a start, Pyrrha found time to slip away from these things and wander the preparatory areas. She met with numerous regulars to the tournament that she had defeated before, with waves and handshakes of courtesy she left them behind, and once reaching the official branch chart for matches stopped to take a look. It seemed that she and Helena would be meeting up this time, assuming neither lost before the sixth match, and assuming Hank wasn't defeated he would once again find his way to them in the quarter finals. She thought it an odd coincidence that she never met him early in the tournament, always near the end, though never over the title.

The roar of the crowd outside came as a winner was determined, and Pyrrha waited by the exit to the arena as Hank stepped out of his victory as well as the hail of insults and jeering. Her hand halted mere inches from his shoulder as she noticed he was on a phone, with his other hand trying to plug his free ear, completely oblivious to her. "Hold up, hold up. I can't hear ya."

He left the din of waiting participants and stands outside, and she followed.

"Viktor, we've been over this. It's not gonna work three times in a row... I made a good enough impression to make it look like I could drop the champ, sure, but even last year's haul was a lot smaller than the first. They know what we're doing, and they already think we're going to do it again. You heard my brother; we gotta switch it around this time, come out on top." He paused as the other line spoke. "I'm not playing with your money! I'm trying to turn us both a profit here! Look, I'm not changing my mind, so bet on me this time. You're just gonna have to have some faith."

Hank hung up and closed the phone with a sigh, scratching his head. Pyrrha wasn't far off, and she chose to step that much closer so that her presence was apparent. "So it was all about the money after all."

He glanced back at her, surprised that she was there, but that didn't last long. "We're going about it proper-like this year. A promise is a promise."

"I didn't want to think someone had the audacity to rig the tournament... is it only you?" He nodded.

"We got me into the right spot on the chart, and then from there I just win until I have to lose. Against you... Your wins are still legit in every other case." He rubbed the back of his neck, and she could tell he was hiding a guilty look. "It's my integrity that's flimsy, not the tournament's."

Pyrrha crossed her arms under her chest. "I can see why you did it, even if I don't agree with it. You look a lot better than you did in year one."

"Flattery'll get you nowhere, Nikos." Hank shrugged, letting his eyes roll upward in thought. "You're taking this a lot better than I thought you would."

"... I'm taking this better than _I _thought I would." She admitted. There was a moment where neither of them could really find the words, as they didn't know each other all too well. "What's hinging on this tournament?"

"Say again?" Hank gave her a confused look.

"Will you be okay if you lose this time?" His explanation over the phone hadn't exactly been subtle. He raised his voice a little as he answered;

"What do you care? You don't know me. I knew the risks when I put my chips in the pot... don't let your conscience mess up your record. I'm expecting a fight out of you, no screwing around." Pyrrha was taken aback momentarily, but nodded. She tried to think of something else to say to Hank, but he split before she had something put together, his stride suggesting the conversation was over.

Returning to the spectating row for participants, Pyrrha let another half hour of fights flash before her eyes until she was called on to fight against Helena, which hadn't exactly been shocking. This would be the first time the two of them met in the ring within the three years they had both entered... Helena's wardrobe hadn't varied much, as it seemed like a customary noble set from where she hailed from, but it drew a small laugh out of her when she noticed Helena's hair cut significantly shorter than it had been last year. Not boyishly so, but to a length that would be hard to grab.

There was a surge in the crowd as the battle was motioned to a start, Helena taking off with a cross slash to Pyrrha's shield. She bounced off while curling her legs in, the recoil turned into a flip right over Pyrrha's head to make a wild set of slices at her head and neck that all were narrowly avoided. Their swords clashed with sparks flying with each heavy stroke, Helena already gritting her teeth a bit in her concentration, and within a few seconds they mutually broke apart to circle the other. As Helena dove for her again, Pyrrha bashed one kukri and parried the other while she turned to get her full force behind a body-check of her shield into her opponent's stomach, raising it right after to drive the edge up into the girl's chin. She snuck in a slash to her waist that flowed into an upwards one before Helena backed away with her own group of swings, none of which landed in her haste to retreat.

Pyrrha was fighting much more carefully than she even did normally, as the shape of Helena's swords were accustomed to reaching around the rim of a shield like hers, but so far she had the girl out-skilled by a fair margin. Each time they met, Pyrrha landed a handful of hits through the girl's recklessness which in turn made her back off again to regain her bearings, and the pattern repeated without her own notice. Soon, after ducking beneath both blades and standing with an arcing strike to her abdomen, Pyrrha saw her chance to take her down completely and acted on it without hesitation; with a throw of her shield, Helena was nailed in the chest and face by the circular projectile, dazed long enough to be disarmed by a quick downward slash and upward kick. The flurry of blows that came next chipped the girl's aura down to red standing in no time flat, both panting with exertion as Pyrrha was claimed victorious.

Helena took the hand she was offered by the defending champion, still trying to catch her breath. "You're just... a cut above..." The winded congratulations were accepted with a nod, and they both vacated the arena for the next match to start, finding a seat in the waiting room and both getting a much needed drink.

* * *

><p>"Witzer. We need to talk." A nondescript man wearing a leather jacket and worn-out jeans stood next to where Hank was sitting, watching the blonde and redhead fight with grace and honor that he didn't have. The person repeated themselves to snap him out of the mesmerizing scene, and once looking at the guy dismissed him near immediately.<p>

"I told your boss what the plan is this time. It's not changing, so go back to the hotel and tell him to cool his heels."

The individual stood with his hands in his pockets. "You're throwing your match with the Nikos girl, Hank. It's not negotiable."

"Like hell it is. Look, you need to just –..." Hank's hand was taken momentarily, where the man he was speaking to dropped several hairs. Dirty-blonde colored hairs, that looked freshly torn from someone's head, much like the color atop a young man Hank had come to consider family during the past few years. He was only able to stare at these for a moment.

"Throw the match, Witzer. And don't just forfeit, straight up lose. Got it?" The messenger stared at the formerly-poor contestant expecting compliance. He was answered with an expression that made his heart stop beating.

* * *

><p>The penthouse suite of Avaritia Four-points hotel was practically a sultan's personal throne room, spacious with white marble floors and polished granite walls covered in lavish hues of red. There were enough drapes to have a whole family parachute down from here, as well as a fountain-fed hot tub, overhang balcony and double-poster bed. Half a dozen men stood at the edges of the room with automatic firearms either holstered at their sides or in hand, the inner portion only populated by two; one teenager tied to a chair now lying on its side, and an adult with his legs crossed sitting in another across from the boy.<p>

The kid hadn't struggled really, even with the patch of hair missing from his scalp and rapidly swelling eye. He'd only spit out some blood and waited patiently. Viktor, despite appearing unaffected, found it rather eerie in someone so small to have such composure. His black hair was tied in the back and parted simply, reaching his shoulders where a black satin shirt buttoned up to just below the chest. His expensive blue chinos and snappy black shoes completed the money-grubber's visage he must have been going for, a heavy handgun in the waistband that he'd whipped the boy with three times now with little response. His nose was a bit large, his teeth slightly crooked, and his eyes were a dull green that none would ever compliment.

"Quite the genius you must be, to think you can just turn this whole operation upside down and expect me to fall in line. Enjoying the view down there?" The name-brand footwear tapped Hank's associate on the head, still drawing no reaction. Viktor frowned, until he heard his phone vibrating in his pocket.

Answering the call, the frown dropped even further when the voice he hadn't expected was on the other end. "You boys've just pissed on the wrong anthill, Tricks."

"I'll be the judge of that. Aren't you on in a few minutes?" He heard a chuckle from his extorted business partner.

"I'm sure as hell not helping you rake in on this tournament now. Where was that penthouse? Top floor?"

Viktor stood from his seat, eyes wide with rage. "Get yourself back to that stadium right now, or I shoot this little prick's head off."

Another laugh, and Viktor nearly crushed the phone in his hand. "Good luck with that. By now, you've probably lost him." A glance down to the chair, not a few feet from him, revealed that the ropes were cut and the formerly unmoving kid had vanished under the watch of six idiots. Of course, when their leader was having a heated argument at the center of the room, he would attract that much attention.

"Do you blockheads have your whole fists up your asses, or just your thumbs? _Where did he go?!_"

"He was right there a second ago, boss!" Three had begun to spread out searching, the others closer to the door leading into the suite. Viktor's phone was still live;

"You better hope that hotel's got a panic room, Tricks. Forget huffin' and puffin', I'm gonna rip that place apart with my bare hands. And when I find you, we'll discuss some new terms for our agreement. How does that sound?" The call was hung up before Viktor could have a final word.

Turning around, Viktor shut his phone and swept a glare over his trusted associates. "Find the blonde one, and fill him with holes. You, tell the guys downstairs that we're expecting company." He shoved one of the men toward the door, and turned to see his remaining four begin combing the suite.

... remaining four?

* * *

><p>The exhaustion had passed, and Pyrrha had turned to pacing as she waited for the quarter finals to start. Even though she was already out of the running, Helena had stuck around to see if Pyrrha would actually beat Hank into submission this time, a turn of events she was hoping for. She had been trying to reassure the girl who knocked her out of the tournament not long ago, since the first time Pyrrha had asked to postpone the match for a lack of Hank Witzer. The second of the quarter-finalist pairs were going at it now.<p>

"He said he would fight. He promised..."

"What surprises me is that you believe that. You said yourself, it's about the money for him, right? I know greedy... and Hank is nothing but greedy." Helena's idea of reassuring wasn't the same as most.

"... I agree that he seems rather selfish, but..." Pyrrha turned to hearing her name, and as she turned away another tournament official, Helena answered her phone with a bored expression. It caught Pyrrha's eye when that face became more and more interested in what she was hearing. "Is something the matter?"

The noble hung up, looking at the device in her hands like it had just sprouted a head. "According to my retainers, someone just fell from the penthouse suite and broke the rental limo. It would seem there's a boy hanging from the balcony, and if that weren't enough, they're saying Hank Witzer just walked in. The hotel is being evacuated, because shots were fired."

* * *

><p>The crashing sound from outside and subsequent car alarm drew Viktor to the balcony, the missing henchmen crumpled against a limousine in the parking lot. He caught a glimpse of the kid as he swung from the penthouse balcony to one of the windows on the floor below theirs, and drawing he loosed his full clip into the floor while crossing his room to the door. Screams faintly echoed up from below.<p>

His remaining four kept in step as they descended the stairs and he reloaded, seeing numerous people scrambling down already from the floor they were headed to. He fired indiscriminately, injuring two and not catching sight of the blonde kid among the ones that escaped further down. Directing two to check this floor, and the other two to check the two different stairwells, Viktor himself stood where he was and dialed a number on his schnellphone. "Witzer's gone rogue. We're done here, so gather up the cash from his automatic forfeit. We should at least be getting our original sum back."

"The Nikos girl keeps postponing her match; all the other quarter-finalists are going first. We gotta wait until these ones are through." Viktor clicked his tongue. Had the kid predicted this, too?

"Boss!" The one he'd sent downstairs came running back up, pants red at the thigh from a stab wound. "Get back upstairs! Witzer is –" Hank's spear flew up through the gap between the stairwell and landing, taking the guy in the shoulder and throwing him into the wall. Viktor turned on his heel, getting the guys checking rooms on this floor to follow him up. He had somehow gone down to two guys on his personal detail in that short a time frame, and lost Hank's brother to boot. Viktor wasn't running, however; he simply knew the penthouse better than he did the other parts of the hotel, so thought it better to defend himself there.

They moved the furniture and made a clear path for bullets to fly into the door the moment it would open, Viktor and his two remaining allies with dead aim on the entrance. Rather than pumping the attacker full of lead, they got off a few shots but ultimately had to dive aside as the door wasn't just opened, but rather kicked off its hinges and sent hurtling for those standing directly apart from it. Hank sprinted inside more blur than figure, stabbing the rightmost underling in the foot as he was the first to stand and silencing his pain with a whack of the haft to his jaw.

Viktor shot at Hank from the floor even as his last henchman helped him off it, winging Hank's right pectoral and arm just above the elbow as a speartip darted for his face. Viktor kicked against the floor to fall again out of the weapon's path, knocking his subordinate over as well. Hank switched hands, letting his injured right stay limp and bleeding as the left twirled his weapon and threw it through the last man's SMG and hand both. He fell clutching the polearm, trying vainly to somehow dislodge it.

Seeing his chance, Viktor pointed his handgun at Hank's forehead and let off a shot just as he was kicked, sending it into the ceiling. Hank didn't bother to reach down, instead kicking the backstabber over and stomping on his hand until it relinquished the gun. Sitting down next to Viktor, he lifted it in his good left hand and pressed it to the man's skull. "You're a very poor decision-maker, Tricks. Going and making collateral out of something I treasure more than cash was a pretty stupid thing to do."

"I'm gonna have every degenerate in Vale hunting the streets for you two. I swear it." Hank lifted the gun for a second only to mock terror.

"What else is new? Right now, I'm just going to take your money that you tried to screw us out of, and all you fellas get to come back to the crime business intact. This isn't negotiable, as they say. Hell, you should be glad I didn't do anyone in... hm. How do they do this in spy movies?" He took the gun, figured out how to take the clip out, ejected the loaded shell, and tossed the empty weapon out the window before standing to leave.

Viktor grit his teeth, reached over to the henchman Hank had knocked out first for his SMG, and went to pull the trigger.

Hank threw his spear aside and dropped to the floor for the policeman that entered the doorway, who still fired three shots upon sight of the disgruntled crime lord.

* * *

><p>Shortly after Helena's servants explained seeing Hank climbing into a police car, Pyrrha accepted the terms for his technical defeat, going on to win the tournament yet again. As she maintained her reigning status, she beamed for the cameras and fans, but only Hank noticed what looked like a bitterness hiding behind it even over the TV in jail. He went back to Vale the same day he'd been taken in for the chaos at the hotel; now that Tricks was dead and his companions were scattered, Hank's passport looked much less legitimate than before and he was quickly deported from Mistral for his crimes.<p>

Fortunately, he was only being charged for aggravated assault, not having killed anyone himself and only having done so for his brother. The rigging of the Mistral Tournament, while loathsome, had been done through bribery he hadn't been a part of and his own personal actions, which he couldn't be properly prosecuted for. To keep the tournament's reputation intact, the media was told that the outbreak had nothing to do with the event, and the headlines focused more on the takedown of a fairly infamous kingpin, the sole person to have died during the crisis -even including a man who had fallen multiple stories onto a limousine had made it through in the hospital. The cop responsible would bask in glory over it for a while to come, and back in Vale, criminals were dividing what he had left behind. One such person known as 'Junior' would make out fairly well.

Sitting at the lone metal table in a room he'd been interrogated in for the past while, Hank wished he could loosen the cuffs attached to his wrists, though since he had been allowed his current visitor it was only this that had continued to be a discomfort. Sadly, as always, his brother kept their interactions short, already standing to leave. "I will defend you in court as best I can, Hank, but I must return to Petto Automotive for now. My sick days were used coming with you to Mistral."

"I understand, Baz. Thanks for having my back."

Obaz set his hat back atop his head, which he hadn't brought with him to Mistral as he didn't want Tricks to know where he worked. "Thank _you _for having mine."

Hank sighed as the boy left, turning sideways to get by someone else who was waiting next to the door at the time. As the person entered, Hank sat upright, not having expected another visitor. Certainly not one bearing a plate of cookies...

As the headmaster of Beacon set the treats down, he used the freed-up hand to retrieve his scroll, already set to play footage of Hank's rounds in the tournament. "I have some questions I would like to ask you, Mr. Witzer..."


	26. Course Correction (Ch 51-B)

**Course Correction**

"Every time. Every single time." Weiss said, having taken her seat next to Ruby. Her team populated one side of the table in the cafeteria, Blake easting some fish-centered meal and Yang finishing off dessert. Ruby was talking to Laera, who was next to Sophia and Steven. Or rather, was, as Steven got up and left with a quick goodbye. The heiress only spoke once he was out of earshot.

Sophia sank her teeth into a chicken breast, glancing up and then to Laera. As expected, the brunette was already curious; "What are you talking about, Weiss?"

"Every time we meet like this, or even partner in class, Steven avoids me as much as possible. When he led team _Strength, _there were a few examples, but now with the two of you and Obaz as his teammates, that hasn't changed –even though we see a lot more of each other now." Laera pondered that for a brief moment.

"That's a pretty weird thing coming from Steve. If something's the matter, he's usually the first one you hear. If there's a problem, solve it. If there's an obstacle, move it. That's him in a nutshell." The statement made a look cross Yang's face.

"You mean like how he's been moving Jaune when the guy flirts with Weiss?"

Laera now developed an odd expression. "What, like pushing him away?"

"Like grabbing him, lifting him up, and taking him back to Pyrrha and the rest of his team. It was the funniest thing to watch yesterday. Weiss probably appreciates it."

There were only so many reasons one could think that Steven would regard Jaune as an 'obstacle', only when flirting with Weiss. It took Ruby the longest to realize what was being implied. "But... but Steven doesn't call her 'snow angel'."

The comment utterly pulverized her sister's funnybone, and even with Yang's hysterics, Weiss was focused on some deep thought she was having. Perhaps she didn't hate the idea of Steven's crush as much as she did Jaune's? Perhaps she was thinking up a way to shut him down before he got anything like his blonde friend? Perhaps adding Neptune into this whole equation?

Whatever thought she was having, it snapped upon hearing Steven's voice. He'd come back... "Oh, uh... Ruby? I forgot I had something to ask you. Mind if we met up later?"

The girl put her chin between thumb and forefinger, humming her mental scan of the day's agenda. "Yeah, I'll be free after classes. What for?"

"Advice, is all." He took off with a bit of a hastier stride yet again, and the many girls at the table all had the same thought swimming in their heads after what they'd been discussing beforehand.

"He's totally gonna ask you about Weiss. Finally break the taboo, go after his friend's dream girl. It's just like a juicy chick flick." Laera's interest was now fully piqued seeing Steven act so strangely, and just the way she was describing it was drawing the others on board.

"I sincerely doubt that he would actually go around Jaune's back." Sophia said, done with her food. Blake shrugged.

"Love makes the male gender do some crazy things. It's the only time animals will sing or dance outside of a circus; for people, you would think the sky's the limit." She sounded like she might have been quoting something. Yang had a feeling that something was about Ninjas of the current topic.

Ruby looked like she was not looking forward to the talk she would have with Steven later. "What am I supposed to do, then?"

"Tell him to ask me himself. Whatever advice he's looking for, it won't help him. He should just man up and tell me how he feels." Weiss said matter-of-factly, earning a knowing look from her friends around her. "What?"

Yang only giggled to herself, having used up most of her laughter earlier in a tangent. "Oh, nothing. You're just keeping your 'ice queen' rep alive pretty well."

"I told you to stop calling me that!" She interjected. "I'm allowed to have a... dissuasive... inclination to suitors. Do you know how many half-hearted attempts there have been? Me neither. I lost count."

Laera, to their surprise, got a rather irritated look at that. "Steven isn't half-hearted about anything."

There was a momentary silence as Weiss and Laera had a stare-down, but Blake piped up. "Well... we could always find out."

* * *

><p>Once combat class with Glynda ended, Ruby went to find Steven who had messaged her about studying in the library. He said he would either still be there, or at his dorm. Since he wasn't answering her now, he probably had his scroll turned off, which was common practice in the first of these two options. As she passed through the doors and saw Steven scribbling away, she motioned her teammates and his into the room and towards the shelves where they could hide. They were short one member, Sophia, as she had had supplementary classes yet again. He showed no signs of having noticed, so Ruby went to take a seat across from the boy, who had taken off his blazer and loosened his tie during the time he'd been here.<p>

"Hey, Steven." The words caused him to shut his textbook and put his pencil down, sighing to himself with the relief of having a break from written work. He brought up some smalltalk, such as how her own studies were going.

Laera looked as if she was ready to run over and tell him to get to the point by the time he actually got to it, and the words made the five listeners nearly give themselves away; "... anyways, I brought you here more or less to ask you about Weiss. You ought to know her pretty well by now."

"_Called it!_" Yang whispered what she wanted to shout, and eavesdropped further as Ruby addressed the statement the same way they wanted to;

"You should probably ask her yourself if you like her... If I had any advice to give on that front, Jaune would already have it." Steven was making a face that none of them really expected, and the meaning of it was anyone's guess until he spelled it out for them; and the way he did so had Yang fighting to contain herself, Blake the same but also helping Laera who couldn't do it alone, and a most dumbstruck Heiress.

"I don't think 'no' covers just how wrong you are. I'd chew a mouthful of nails, slowly, before I would ever try to date that girl." That fast, he tried to move on; "So, what I really wanted to ask was-"

"B-b-but you keep avoiding her! And you keep taking Jaune away from her!"

He gave her an annoyed look. "I don't like being around her because she drives me up a friggin' wall. She's an arrogant, self-centered, perfectionist rich bitch that can't handle being wrong, because heaven forbid her ego loses some hot air. You know how a certain sound pitch can shatter glass? Her voice hits that pitch for my eardrums whenever she whines about something or another." Yang couldn't breathe, and Blake was biting her tongue hard enough to make her cry a little.

"As for Jaune, that's what's called a 'course correction'. From what I've heard, when a ship plays chicken with an iceberg, the iceberg usually wins. Last thing I want to see is my pal split in half because of her, and in the off chance that he wins her over I'd have to hear her a whole lot more. So, instead of the crash and burn, I aim him at a sunny vacation spot." He refrained from explaining that in the metaphor, Pyrrha was ultimately the paradise that the Jaune Titanic should be going to instead of a cold and watery grave.

Ruby found that this all made quite a bit of sense, but that begged to question; "What are you asking me about Weiss for now, then?"

"I wanted to get to that a while ago, thanks." She shrank a little at the snappy comment. "I only just came to lead in place of Regis, and I've never had to give orders to someone who uses glyphs before. Laera and Weiss are pretty different, but I figured you might have something to tell about it. The semblance is strategically awkward, I find, but it's obviously very useful as well."

Rather than start discussing the strategy behind it, Ruby pressed on to a much closer topic to the one they just tried to leave; "If Weiss and Laera have such similar semblances, doesn't that mean they're a lot alike? Why do you hate Weiss, but like Laera so much?"

She had a bit of a point, so he chose not to get mad over the turn she took. "Believe it or not, they're both hard-working perfectionists at heart. Laera's grades are roughly the same as Weiss' without near as much studying and practice... It's the reasoning that makes them different; Weiss probably sees it as a family tradition to uphold, excellence that is expected of her for being a Schnee, and I don't blame her for that. Laera, on the other hand, has only gotten to where she is through that struggle to be perfect, which only got harder when she felt like she owed it to my brother after he died. In a way, you could say she's a huntress today because of me."

Ruby acquired a head tilt with that proclamation. "But you just said it was because of your brother." Steven shook his head with a less than excited expression.

"If she thought someone needed to carry on my brother's dream of becoming a hero, why do you think both of us are here?" He asked. He didn't wait for an answer. "It's because she doesn't think I can pull it off. She thinks I'll leave it behind, just like I did him, so she came here to make sure someone would do it after all. But, ah... to answer your first question, it's because Laera doesn't feel self-entitled to anything because of what she accomplishes. That makes her complain less, and appreciate things more than Weiss. The only time she hits the pitch Weiss constantly drills my ears with, is when she's laughing. It's obnoxious as hell. She gets that from her dad..."

After a moment's thought, Steven began to stand from his seat. "I should tell Weiss all this in person before it gets around. She'll bother me twice as much if she thinks I talk behind her back."

"There's no need for that –I'm right here." Weiss stepped out of the columns, which made Steven cross his arms, get into a defensive posture. He was expecting her to come up and start chastising him over having a poor opinion of her, and that is precisely what she did. "You've got a lot of nerve saying –"

"You need to stop for a second." Steven cut her off, and her look of aggravation over it lessened as he spoke further. "I know I said some pretty harsh things, but I never said you were wrong. Who you are isn't something I would, or could, actually hold against you –and it's not like I think you should change or anything either, since there's nothing really wrong with it. I kept avoiding you because there's nothing for us to say." She had grown progressively more placid, and he finished by saying; "And yes, I know I'm no peach either. I'm simple-minded, loud, paranoid, and you're allowed to dislike me just as much."

After asking that Ruby talk to him later, again, if she had anything to say about handling a glyph user under one's command, he shuffled past Weiss with little space between her and the bookshelf. She still failed to come up with a rebuttal. He was right; there was really nothing else to say about it. She spun around, and tried to have the last word but he was gone by the time she had put together a sentence in her head.

Having come down from the comedy of the situation a while ago, Yang, Blake and Laera joined Ruby and now Weiss by the table. "You definitely have him figured out, Laera." Yang considered how Laera had described Steven in a nutshell, and found that what they just witnessed was a perfect example to go by.

Laera let her eyes wander for a moment before admitting to it. "I know him well, I'll say that much, but there's plenty I don't get." She said.

One such thing she didn't understand was Steven's scroll. It had plenty of music on it, a decent chunk of which was sung by the girl in question...

...

When she brought this up later that night, Steven held up one hand, and said; "Her voice is beautiful when stringing a tune, but otherwise, it makes me want to punch a baby."


	27. Occasional Attitude (Ch 55-B)

**Occasional Attitude**

"So, why do you like making weapons so much?" Emerald asked, lying belly-down across the make table. Her legs were up kicking feebly behind her, much like Laera might do at her bunk back at Beacon. Obaz was giving her a look she'd yet to receive from the boy, and Hank was now smiling from ear to ear while he watched over his phone for a possible call. Obaz walked away, not a word spoken, and Emerald was now ready to ask more questions about this.

Hank got more comfortable where he was, and his chest moved with laughter he was keeping down despite how apparent it was on his face. "I'd get into a better position if I were you."

"... Why?" She drew out the syllable somewhat, and Hank let one of his chuckles fly free. Shmots was watching with whatever expression was stuck behind his accessories, Mercury sitting on an empty oil drum.

Emerald nearly fell out of her spot when a chalkboard rolled into her line of sight, not properly wheeled in like usual but shoved without care to spin and bump her table. Obaz re-entered with something even his actual friends saw little of; a heaping helping of raw enthusiasm.

"Why do I _'like'_ making weapons? Building bone-breaking, flesh-searing, brain-popping, carnage-creating forces of full-jacket fundamental bedlam? Summarizing would be a waste of topic. Get settled, strap in, pick a god and pray –there are no brakes on this ride." Hank was holding his head in his hands, still laughing. Emerald wondered what this imposter did with Obaz.

"Man needs weapons. We came across rocks, we made them weapons well before tools. Fire, weapons before tools. Dust, weapons before tools. Beings like to evolve and gain claws, fangs, poisonous excretions, and we hit them until they die and give us those things. Weapons grant access. Access grants options. Options grant reliability in the face of problematic variety. Tools allow us to take what is not owned; weapons allow us to take from what would undoubtedly fight back with the things we want, including the weapons our own kind have for the same purpose. A sword may as well be a blood-soaked road leading to better blood-soaked roads, and finally if one walks it well enough true mastery of their lives. Power, control, joy that cannot be stolen or slain. Slippery when wet, watch your footing." Obaz had been clacking a chalk diagram that made vague sense over the board, now turning to Emerald and dragging her excitedly back to her table as she tried to flee. Hank howled with delight.

Emerald failed to get out of Obaz' literally wrought-iron grip as he went on slashing connections between words with his free hand, Mercury now walking over and picking up a piece of chalk himself. Hank fell off his seat and nearly suffocated as the slate-haired accomplice of Emerald decided Obaz' chart needed some illustrating. "I am talking about full dominance over the unruly pieces of one's life puzzle, the means with which to make the choices you want to make even as others wish to bar them from you. Amply assertive, willfully walking with pride through fear and obstacles, your sheer resolve wrecking the walls erected in your path like dominoes waiting to be cast aside for the sake of your amusement. I build because a personally handcrafted, awe-inspiring, mettle-testing, bounds-breaking boss of finely honed destruction is what I want when my hands need to grasp the way to victory. Corrupt Conglomerates send droves of dullards wrapped in paper carrying mass-produced scrap that harm from a distance because they have no _vision_. No drive to create a holy grail of ass-kicking when they need not hold more than a pen to oppress those that ask they number the cheques. A lot of good that will do them when they are sent for someone with full plating and a bigger gun, will it not?"

Khiver ran in from outside, flipped over the SkyAnchor, and landed next to Obaz and in front of Mercury. Their audience of three had diverse reactions as Khiver started pacing and making wild gestures. "Somebody done gone an' asked the Arms Aficionado the why? Why don't any a' you go build a metal mashup of peak performance in the death-dealing department, huh? You boys n' girl, sittin' there with yer fancy spears an' yer sickle-guns an' yer bullet boots, not a clue in how ta put together a YV-600 Sect Collider with optional lead breaker undercarriage. You'll cut n' shoot an' maim a sumbitch, but when ya tussle with the big boys it'll be Pierce up in here with a shaken jug a' overkill so potent the fallout'll be reported for decades."

"Exaggerated, though accurate." Obaz commented, kicking Khiver out of the picture. "In closing, I like making weapons because I like control, and the more means with which I can take control of a situation, the better." He turned toward the board, now impossible to comprehend with the number of connecting lines and cartooney doodles, and nodded as if it made absolute sense.

Emerald stayed silent for a moment, as she had something to say but having this go further was not a goal she had in mind. Her curiosity got the better of her, though; "So why don't you use Dust in anything?"

"Dust is expensive, in currency and design. Too much is spent on keeping it stable or fuel-efficient; a weapon geared for use of dust is there to either accentuate what the dust already does, or merely apply it to what the weapon should already do. It's a supplement that is so over-abused that coming across weaponry that has nothing to do with it is about as rare as an albino among black sheep; as such, it is expected about as much. I could load a cannon with mounds of freezing dust to shatter an adversary's defense, but expend far less by simply cracking it open with a kinetic compression round." She cringed far less, and now found herself wondering why his normal to-the-point mannerism had returned. Having known what would happen before, she looked at Hank whose own amusement had died down to a simmer, and he caught the meaning of the look fast.

"You asked why he 'likes' something. It's not a question of practicality, or not understanding, but his own personal reasoning. That boils down to philosophy, not quoting shreds of a manual, and as a result he gets like that." Emerald's view drifted to the ceiling, lost in thought.

"I suppose that means he likes philosophy itself, then?"

Emerald's hindsight was a perfect 20/20 when Obaz spun the chalkboard around and started at the other side.


End file.
